Traveler and I just got home from a week away, and what a week! I think I fell even more in love with him.
We spent a week together in Vancouver Island in British Columbia. It was wonderful. We hiked and walked and ate great meals and did sea kayaking. We had morning and afternoon and evening kisses and snuggles and hot passionate sex. We had connected sex and sweet sex and close gasping, can’t stop kissing, locked eyes, grasping, aching, delicious sex. Almost four years in and I fall fall fall. God yes. We’ve never spent a week together before, just us, and it was glorious.
We talked and talked and joked and laughed and kissed and snuggled and just had the best time. It was easy and fun.
And honestly it was hard to come home. We daydreamed about the cafe we’d open in Hawaii or the bed and breakfast we’d run like the one we stayed in. We dreamed about the vacation home we’d build together and the little country house we’d live in. It’s idle dreams that we both know won’t happen. We love Quinky, and our jobs and our friends, and our lives. But there was something special about this dreaming o me. It’s special because it isn’t real. It won’t hurt anyone or change our lives. It’s just the admission that in a perfect world made of magic we’d get to be together like this all the time. It’s only the admission that this love is a great love too.