Sex on fire

I turned 30 this weekend. I didn't want to, but it happened anyway. Age is funny like that. Very nonconsensual. Actually, I think for all my fussing, 30 is not so bad. So far, at least. I'm pleased with where I am in life, and I'm breathing easier now that the milestone is no longer looming.

I do think I've grown up and become a more responsible adult since then. I thought I'd share with you a little story from the first few hours of my first day of being 30. I think it illustrates my point.

4am, more or less (I've been 30 since midnight at this point). Mr L and I burst into my flat, a little intoxicated and horny as hell. We've spent a delightful evening celebrating with friends, but the many hours trying to behave ourselves have taken their toll. We're kissing, groping, hungry for each other before we have even got the front door shut. I break off from him briefly to get water, he follows me into the kitchen and before I know it we are all over each other again, clothes being shed and I can barely breathe for the painful wanting him, my fingers fumbling and useless for all of their urgency. He pushes me back against the hard surface behind me and I know he can't wait, I can't wait - there is no reason why we should wait - this is my house, dammit! He hitches my bottom up onto the surface behind me so that I'm the right height for him and pushes roughly inside of me. The field of my perception is suddenly rapidly shrunk to nothing outside of the two of us as I fuck him back, desperately. There is nothing there for me but his smell, his taste, his skin where it touches mine, his breathing as it becomes more ragged, the noises I can't help but make, the growing warmth inside of me. I notice that one of my high heels pressed against the glass panelling and I hear the rhythmic click, click, click....

Wait - click, click, click is not a sex noise, says a small persistent part of me. 'Shut up, who cares' says almost all of me. Oh fuck, yes who cares--
But wait, continues the small persistent part of me. Click, click, click sounds like something else, like something b--
SHUT UP, says almost all of me again. Who fucking cares, as long as you're fucking him and he's fucking you, and it feels this amazing?
If you'd let me finish (shut up) I was going to say (shut up) that sounds like the noise the hob makes when you turn the flames on (SHUT UP)
The hob on the oven you're sitting on?
Oh fuck!

I must admit that the narrowly avoided singed parts did not give us much pause for thought. Just long enough to change rooms. I felt ever so lucky in the morning though.

Yes, I think 30's fine. I'm definitely growing up. I've left you a little birthday song that I thought was quite apt for the occasion:

Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon