Ecstasy by Terry Brewer @Stories2121 307 words
He was the type of man a type of woman like me is to marry. There was nothing to be said against him. He was tall, handsome, rich, well-educated, and considerate. He possessed a sense of humor. “I’m lucky to have him,” everyone said I should think. “Lucky to have him.”
When we made love, as we often did, he was kind and gentle. He never presumed; he always asked. He always stopped if I asked, which I rarely did. When he was inside me I felt complete and I felt I wanted more of him inside me.
And yet I did not love him. I never had, and I knew I never would
I shouldn’t, but I found myself falling too often into the romances of other people’s lives. Not the sex, although I am sure it is good between them. No. The sense of naturalness and oneness that they emit. The smiles. The touching.
Many of the woman do not look like they are with the type of someone they are supposed to marry. Many of the men, too, seem to be with someone that destiny or fate put in their path and not one whose characteristics comply with some imposed type.
He was tall, handsome, rich, well-educated, and considerate, and he possessed a sense of humor. “I’m lucky to have him,” everyone said I should think. “Lucky to have him.” I did not think that. The sex. The sex was always very good. He physically completed me. But I did not love him and I never will love him.
I love someone. Someone who is not the type a type of woman like me should marry. When we walk we smile and we touch. When we walk we always smile and we always touch.
The sex. The sex can only be described as ecstasy.
July 24, 2019