Is It Like Riding A Bicycle?

The more intimate the Chief and I get the more I ponder this question.

Confession: It's been... years. Literally, not over exaggerating, but actually years.

So I'm hoping that sex is like riding a bicycle. That in the moment that we decide to take things that far all of the carnal knowledge will coming flooding back, and it will be the most natural thing in the world. All those delightful little tricks will be completely in top notch shape for demonstrating and wowing the boxers off the man.

There are no expectations. Every thing up to this moment has been perfect. It's been silly. It's been sensual. It's been fun. It's been serious and romantic and rough and tender and experimental and eye opening (or shutting, I have trouble concentrating *Lol*) and life changing. And I know that the next step, whenever it happens, will be exactly the same. All of those things, maybe at once, maybe over a hundred thousand times in the future. But (Are you ready for the mushy part?) it's the fact that I love him, head over heels, way too much, crazylove, love him that makes this so unbelievably incredible. He makes me want to explore and experiment and try this and that and cross this and that off the list. I trust him, and I want to share everything with him. (K, mush is done).

However, with that said. I still hope it's like riding a bicycle and I'll remember enough to have him asking for a round two.