Last night some awful things were said, and it hit another bottom of the barrell thing, but then we talked again, and things got worked through. He wanted to see me and I returned the sentiment and he was there, with an ice cream, his face silhouetted in the dark and all I could really see was the line of his jaw and his glasses. And his mouth working the ice cream. GOD I love his mouth. He leaned down to kiss my arm with cold ice cream lips. I was hot, it felt refreshing.

Then we slept, the next to each other kind of sleeping, with his arms around me and it felt wonderful. My cat was too heavy sitting on my legs. I was pinned between the two of them.

This morning was a lovely slow wake, with my stupid alarm clock blaring stupid songs and I hit the snooze button a million times until I finally switched it off.

We showered and he washed my body. I love showering in company, I love it so much. God it's glorious to have someone rub soap all over my body, all my hard parts and my soft parts and scrub me clean. Lifting my arms over my head, my breasts rise fetchingly, he washes my arms starting at the elbows, up to my raised hands, then down to my armpits where he lingers for a second, good and clean. And he reaches behind me to wash the back of my neck and presses his wet body against mine. A little wet kiss on my earlobe, his wet hair tickling my face.

I love the taste of mouths in the shower, that kind of metallic tap water taste, the friction of water against warm lips and the slide of saliva and swallowing water through breaths caught before you drown.

He didn't kiss me this morning. Not the way we used to kiss, long and tasting. He brushed my face and my neck and arms and nose with his lips though, a kind of contact without saying too much.

I wish we could both get back to that place emotionally where we could make love to each other. He is so fluid, he just pours himself all over me and I go blind with desire, like crazy. He smells so good. He feels so good. He is so good.

It would be beautiful to see us work out. This flying-fox relationship could be great, the best, if we can hang on long enough to get past the mud pit.