As most of you know, the last few months have been taking one step at a time, as my boyfriend has been recovering from major surgery and COVID19.

His major surgery involved having a titanium rod inserted inside his femur, of which recovery takes a while. That along with the fortnight he spent on a Covid ward just before, he’s been through a lot. As of now, he can walk but has to use one crutch to get around when outside. Inside he can get around normally as par the physio’s instructions. That being said, he does still experience pain as his body gets used to the changes.

So, as a result of the physical and emotional toll on us both, there has been no sex. Not that we haven’t wanted to, but for the first few months we were sleeping separately as his leg was so fragile, and cuddles could only be short and gentle before the pain was too much, so there was no way physical intimacy was going to be possible. We’ve had much bigger fish to fry recently.

So when it came to us finally being able to share a bed again, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I missed having someone next to me, feeling his warmth. Given everything that had happened, along with his fragile leg, he was insistent I take time for myself to decompress as I balanced caring for him with a very busy month at work. We both needed our own space to process everything. Especially him, having been physically ill and the mental toll of seeing people on the Covid ward on ventilators, being resuscitated and some dying in the time he was there. Him processing that, me processing just how lucky he was and just how scary it was.

It was what we needed at first, but as time went on, the isolation and essentially, touch starvation just became too much. He was missing me, and I was missing him. Yeah we spent afternoons and evenings together, little movie date nights which lifted our exhausted spirits. But it wasn’t the same. He didn’t want to pressure me to come back from the spare room, leaving that decision entirely up to me. But with lack of simply sleeping in the same bed, just being there with him and just *gestures at the world* depression was setting in hard. I had to be back with my man.

Being cuddled up in his arms, knowing I was falling asleep with him warmed my heart like a warm, hearty meal after being outside freezing. It felt incredible and I’ve certainly felt much better since sharing a bed with him again. Half asleep snuggles and kisses in the middle of the night, cuddling up to him under the covers, aaahhhh…

So when the sex finally happened for the first time in four months, think volcanic eruption.

Middle of the night, we both stir and automatically, like muscle memory, we turn around and start kissing and holding each other. We both know what we want and we’re not holding back. Our kisses are fervent and we’re pulling each other’s clothes off, doing our best to be careful of his hip, where a lot of his pain is. He pulls me on top of him. The thought was searing in my head:

Sit. On. His. Dick. And. RIDE. YOUR. MAN.

I reach over to the draw at the bedside table and search for a condom. Where are the bloody condoms?! He helps, reaching to a bag he’d put them in when tidying, where I procured one and, not before running my tongue up his shaft to the tip, taking the tip into my mouth, roll it on to him.

I know I’ll need lube, especially since it’s been a while, but I was so desperate for him inside me, I just take him inside me there and then. I’ll put lube on later. Right now, I need him. Holding his cock, I slide down on to him. We’re close to each other, kissing frantic as I bounce on his cock. Given how the last two years, performance anxiety has been affecting me in the bedroom, I felt I couldn’t ‘bounce’ after trying in the past. Maybe I was just a ‘grinder’. But, just going with the flow, I realise I in fact, can. I have a curve in my lower back and turns out, I’d been curving it too much.

It feels so good, and hearing his moans underneath me as I prop up on my legs and bounce, so needing for him, I can see and hear he likes it too. He takes my breasts, cupping them in his hands, his head against them, kissing them, sucking the nipples, squeezing them. I ran kisses over his neck, grinding my hips against him. He rolls me on to my back and I get the lube, telling him I need it. He hands me the lube and I see to it, as he then slides inside me, pumping fast and hard.

I admit, as I hold on to him I wonder if this would set him back in recovery, fucking me as he’s doing, but he’s so lost in the pleasure I wasn’t complaining. He wouldn’t overexert himself given how much pain it can cause. I ask him if he’d be ok with his hip and leg. He says, mid-thrust, that he’d be ok. It’s a, ‘fuck my girl, worry about the pain later!’ night. I love clinging to him, his weight on top of me, his desperation for me as his moans grow louder and more strained as he climaxes.

It was a much needed release we both needed. His hip was sore afterwards, as you can imagine, but there was no regrets. Sex aside, we’ve been feeling much better being together again, not feeling isolated from one another.

It’s incredible how much difference one bed can make.

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