A Montage With a Sex Scene

2017-2018

If this book were a movie, this is where they’d insert the montage scene. Perhaps to the tune of Sublime’s “What I Got.”

It would begin with books. I know, I’m such a librarian. You’d see them piling up all around, on nightstands and coffee tables and on the bookshelves that we had to add. Titles by Brene Brown, Marie Kondo, Esther Perel. Parenting with Love and Logic, Stephen Snyder’s Love Worth Making. You’d see us listening to audiobooks everywhere, from doing dishes to driving. You’d see footage of Jack flipping through The Bible for Dummies during his lunch break.

You’d see us scouring Spotify for podcasts, sharing the best episodes with each other from The Art of Manliness, Philosophize This, The School of Greatness. Footage of Jack sending me YouTube videos about Carl Jung or Frederick Nietzche, and footage of me watching the videos while I style my hair. Footage of us animatedly discussing these new ideas while we brushed our teeth side by side in our bathroom.

Perhaps then it would cut to us doing yoga on the back deck. Then yoga in front of the living room fireplace with the kids. There would be yoga in our bedroom, where the savasana turns into cuddling, which turns into making out on the mats.

The footage would pan around and show the sun setting on our deep, laughter-filled conversations in our cozy kitchen. Kids everywhere. Friends visiting. 

There would be footage of us checking food labels, throwing away all products with added sugar and gluten, filling our pantry and refrigerator with fresh fruit and vegetables instead. You’d see us buy a Vitamix and stock our cupboard with supplements, nuts, and seeds. 

You’d see us walking in our neighborhood, all six of us together. You’d see my outfits get more form fitting as my body firmed up. You’ll see me standing up straight with my shoulders back, wearing a hat for sun protection.

You’d see Jack and I together, everywhere. Talking while cooking. Lifting weights in the basement. Attempting to keep the bill under $400 at Costco.  

You’d see us together, bathing the kids and cuddling while reading them stories. You’d see us kiss them each goodnight in their own beds.

Then it would cut to the kitchen, where I’d be urging Jack to put away the bottle of cabernet. I’d produce our little one-hitter with an exaggerated gesture, so that the viewers would get slammed over the head with the knowledge that we’d officially swapped wine for weed.

You’d see us retreating to our bedroom, which is no longer an extension of the nursery. It’s now our retreat, sparsely decorated in earth tones. A plush king-size bed faces windows overlooking the lake. You’d see us talking as we pull down the duvet and lay a Turkish towel over the white fitted sheet. 

We had always been close. We had always spent as much time together as possible. But we used to talk about people. About things that happened. About events and plans for the future. Yes, we were open and honest with each other about real things like feelings and hopes and dreams, but our conversation was different before this era. It seemed somehow more technical, more foggy, more disconnected, more superficial, more immature.

Was it the weed? Was it the sleep we were finally getting? Was it our transition from a life of sugar-induced brain fog into a life of intentions, mantras, and yoga? Had we finally found the right books to feed our minds and souls? Was it just the beginning of a mid-life crisis?

Now we were talking about big things. Ideas. Purpose. Passion. Psychology. Philosophy. What the world was made of. What we were doing here. Who we wanted to be. How we thought. How we could be better. How would the footage show that? It felt bigger than mere footage could ever contain.

It was like falling in love all over again. 

So, naturally, you’d see sex. 

You’d see Jack approach me and kiss me, his eight inches over me forcing me to lift my head up to kiss him back. You’d see from the look on his face that he’s done being patient; he looks hungry, intense. That look shifts my mind from his wife to his sex toy, and I know he’ll treat me well. I feel anticipation.

He lifts my shirt over my head and kisses me again, then instructs me to lay down on our bed. He grabs my yoga pants by the waistband and pulls them off. I don’t wear underwear much anymore, so I’m naked now. I like the feeling of being exposed to him.

He unceremoniously strips his own clothes off and lays next to me. He kisses my neck, my breasts, and my stomach. Jack enjoys playing with my nipples, and I respond by becoming quiet. I focus on the sensations in the way that yoga has taught me, opening up whatever chakra needed to endure his almost-aggressive touch. I feel how my body responds, how my wetness grows long before he moves his hands down there.

Jack tells me to get comfortable against the pillows as he positions his head between my legs. There’s no conversation, just short utterances that showcase our familiarity. “Harder,” I might whisper, but then I grab a chunk of his thick brown hair to slow him down, to steady him. I move my hips up and down, and in response he holds me tighter. I focus on the pure delight of being with this amazing man, my best friend, who gets aroused at my pleasure. I moan, and he continues steady with his mouth and sticks a finger in my vagina as I cum for the first of many times that night.

When I’m done, Jack’s face emerges again as he positions himself upright, flipping me over so that I’m facedown on the bed. He grabs my hips and pulls me up into doggy style. “You ready?” he’ll ask. It sounds naughty and caring all at once, and I can only give a small “Mmm” as my reply before he shoves his cock into my pussy. I cry out as I get fucked, steady and fast. My mind is focused on the sensation of his cock hitting that spot inside me. I cum again.

And again.

Jack rubs my clit with his hand as we collapse flat onto the bed, him still fucking me from behind. That spot, and now my clit, too, and this warm body over mine, in charge of mine, caring for mine. I cum again.

Then I climb on top of him and gyrate my body against his. “Stay still,” I whine, throwing my head back and then gasping as I fall forward toward his smiling face. He’s ridiculously handsome, and I like my body, too. I like being the one on top, in charge of the depth and angle. My newly toned body feels powerful and pretty. I cum again, my body going limp on top of his.

“Okay, now,” Jack says after I’ve gone ten seconds without movement. “Now you’re going to come.”

I giggle and lay on my back as he climbs on top of me. I’ve learned that there is no need to be stubborn with Jack, not like I used to be. If I work with him, I receive great rewards. I can’t help but gasp as he pushes in at this new angle. I wrap my legs around him and soon I’m moaning again. 

My grand finale is a clitoral orgasm with him on top of me, missionary style, his groin rubbing hard against my clit. I grab his ass to guide him into the exact pressure and position, and he grinds against me. I can’t concentrate while kissing him during this — his prickly beard is so distracting. Our faces are inches from the other’s, but not touching, our breath heavy. 

I focus. I can feel this orgasm building up inside me as I look into Jack’s face. He’s grunting from the exertion of executing the perfect movements from his taut muscles. He’s staring at my face, a smile at the edge of his parted lips.

I see it in his eyes. There’s nothing more he wants in this moment than for me to experience pure pleasure by his doing. He wants the best for me.

So I let go. I break free of this universe and into another. I do it for me, but I’m also doing it for him, because I know he wants this for me. Yes, I want it, too, and that circle of love and shared pleasure is a burst of beauty inside of me. 

In that moment, I understand existence. I understand everything and yet I know that nothing needs to be understood. I am floating in a starry sky; I am the stars themselves. I feel all the goodness in the world with Jack inside me and around me. I am home.

But I can’t stay there. I’m pulled back into my body by physics and Jack, who has slowed his thrusts, allowing me to compose myself. I smile at him as I come to. He kisses my nose.

“Again,” I whisper, and we repeat. I can’t always repeat that starry sequence — sometimes I’m simply too tired — but it would surely be included in the montage.

After I come again, I appear drunk. I’m giggly and spacey, and Jack pounces on his opportunity before I pass out in a post-orgasm stupor. 

He near drags me to the open spot on the floor in front of our full length mirror, where he fucks me from behind, doggy style again. We watch our reflections as our faces contort from the intensity of his cock slamming into me. 

Sometimes, my mind washes itself of arousal too quickly after my own little death, and I’m back to normal, not thinking about sex anymore, focused instead on getting to sleep or what kind of carpeting would look good in our room when we remodel. 

But on the best days, like this one, I’m still woozy enough to lose myself for the upteenth time while he pumps away. Jack likes to talk dirty while he does this. Actually, to be fair, it’s not always “dirty,” per say. 

Much of the time, as Jack approaches his orgasm, he compliments me with the same flattering utterings: “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” “I don’t deserve this; this is too good. Tell me I’m good to you.” “You’re a sex goddess. How do you do this to me?” “Oh my God, you are so fucking perfect. Look at your tight little body.” “I love you so much, Lizzie. I love you.”

Jack also loves to end a good romp by telling me, in detail, all the sexual things he’d like to do with me in the future.

His fantasy was the same throughout the early part of 2018, so I’m sure that something along these lines would be included in the montage. Surely this idea feeds into the next chapter.

You watch as Jack comes into me from behind, staring into my eyes through the mirror as he shares his dreams. “I want to parade your hot little body around a nude beach, Lizzie. I want everyone to see who I get to fuck. I want to show you off. Then I’ll take you back to our room and fuck your big brains out…you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Actually, I might. A vacation sounded quite nice.