This has to be perfect. Ethan is the most amazing man, and I don't want to disappoint him. So everything has to be flawless. Margie has been a huge help, though, and I don't think I could have - or would have - done this without her.

Sometimes I'm so out of my element with this whole love and relationship thing. I know Ethan has more experience, but still... I want him to know how much he means to me. Margie had me over for a girl's night where we watched what she called "chick licks." She insisted that the surest way to be able to pull off the perfect anniversary was to see examples of perfect love on the big screen, or a forty-two inch, anyway.

We started brainstorming and came up with a plan; a pretty good one if I do say so myself. Now I just have to make sure I don't mess it up. So here I am, standing in the middle of our living room in a new black and pink lace lingerie set and enough lit candles that I may, in fact, set off a smoke alarm.

Of course, Ethan has seen me in much less that bra and panties, but these seem...dirty somehow. Because of the purpose for which they are intended, the pink and black lace seems obscene. I hadn't wanted to get the "tonga" cut, but Margie insisted it was the look needed for the occasion. I'm more of a cotton brief kind of girl. All the panties we looked through were so small... and in bright lacy colors, nor did they seem practical. I really hope Ethan doesn't expect fancy panties all the time because I cannot see the practicality of wearing this style on a daily basis. Particularly if one has to frequently bend or stoop

I glance at the clock on the wall, which was purchased at Hobby Lobby, thank you very much, and know that Ethan will walk through the front door at any moment. I shouldn't be this nervous, but we have grown so much together in the last year, both in heart and mind. I know without a doubt I will be with this man forever, and I want to experience every last thing imaginable with him.

When I hear the key in the door, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Within seconds of the door opening and closing, I hear a loud gasp followed by, "Holy shhiiittt." Ethan is in front of me, hands exploring my backside after only a few seconds. I wonder if he sprinted, even though the distance from the door is only a few steps. It makes me relax, realizing he appreciates my gift a great deal.

"Baby, you smell so good," he whispers. His lips-- then teeth skim my neck and shoulder. The contrast in sensation takes my breath away.

"Fuck. What did I do to deserve all this? And you?"

I'm frozen for a second because I think he's forgotten what today is. He thinks this is just a random tryst. And while we are extraordinarily honest with each other, I can't bring myself to tell him what this is really about. A pang shoots from my heart down into my stomach.

"Whoa, whoa..." Ethan pulls away and looks at me. I try to smile, but it's wholly unsuccessful. It makes my throat tighten more, and I need an escape to the bathroom to shed unwanted tears. This isn't how it's supposed to go! He's supposed to see me, sweep me off my feet, pledge undying devotion, and make love to me for hours.

Damn you, Hollywood! You're a liar.

"Emily, what's wrong? What did I say?" He turns away from me at the moment my lips quivers. He's fisting his hair, mumbling to himself. Even though I still have on a bra, panties, and stupid black heels Margie insisted made the look perfect, I've never felt more exposed. I want to sink into the carpet, wishing the last half hour hadn't ever happened.

Stupid, Emily...why do you always have to do something different or fancy? Why not just make fried chicken for dinner and get him a nice card, I argue with myself.

"Shit! Why did I have to say something stupid on our anniversary? I try, Emily. I want to be good for you, I do. I just can't get it right, ya know? God, please say something."

...stupid on our anniversary...

"You know it's our anniversary?" I could have heard incorrectly.

"Well, yeah. How could I forget our anniversary? I can't forget a thing about you, Emily." He starts to walk toward the couch and grabs my hand, pulling me behind him. He flops down then pulls me into his lap. His thumb graces the outer edges of my smile. He didn't forget.

"I remember that you hate high heels." His hand ghosts down my leg and then draws my leg up. He grasps my spiked heel and slips it off my foot. He tosses the shoe to the floor before he begins to rub my toes.

After a few moments, his hand slides up my arm to my neck, landing on my earlobe. "I remember that you only wear stud earrings because you're afraid of getting them caught on something." His tongue snakes out a lightly traces the tip of my ear.

"I also remember that you don't wear necklaces...." His hand floats to cup my neck and then draws a finger down my breastbone and into my enhanced cleavage.

Ethan shifts on the sofa and pulls something from his pocket. He hands me a small black box with a red bow.

"But I'm hoping to change that." Ethan finishes. I open the box and see the most delicate, yet beautiful necklace. A small silver disc holds the date we pledged our love for each other. One year ago, today.

I find that I can't resist this thoughtful man. Not only has he not forgotten our anniversary, but he has also purchased the perfect gift. I seductively maneuver myself so that I'm facing Ethan. I straddle his lap and then kiss him like my life depends on it. "It's perfect. You're perfect," I mumble in between kisses.

I always get this feeling when Ethan and I are about to do it. It's still a million tiny butterflies bouncing in my stomach trying to break free. Honestly, it's the best feeling. The greatest part, though, is that each time is better than the last. I'm not sure if Ethan has been swapping stories in the stock room - although I doubt it, it's not his style - or reading up on the internet, but things have really...exploded for us in the bedroom department. There was a Get-to-know-you period, which was followed by the Awkward-movements period. Then there was the This-works-so-let's-do-it-this-way-all-the-time period. Lately, we'd found the "Life is like a box of chocolates..." period. And let me tell you, I may not know what I'm "gonna get," but that shit is good. "Chocolate" is never a bad thing.

"And I remember," Ethan pauses, breathing me in. "You love it when I kiss you here," he finishes and then sucks my nipple into his mouth. The contrast in sensation of his soft, wet mouth and the lace fabric has me beyond aroused.

"New rule: all panties must be like this." His hands rub across the exposed flesh of my butt, grabbing a handful of cheek to accentuate his point. Ethan's kiss is now languid, his tongue reaching out and teasing my body. As he moves upward, our eyes connecting once again, he beckons my mouth to open and allow him inside. I'm totally lost to this man and would submit to anything he wanted but after a few moments, I remember I have a plan.

"Let's move to the bedroom," I say in my most seductive voice. "I have more surprises for you." Before I even have a chance to stand, Ethan grabs me and stands, coaxing me to wrap my legs around him. He doesn't carry me like this often, but when he does, there is no safer feeling in this world. He is totally supporting me, exerting his masculinity. I feel small pressed against him - a protector and his charge. "I love you," I whisper and rest my head on his shoulder.

The journey down the hall to the bedroom is too short. I could stay wrapped up in Ethan this way forever, but I have a massage to render, so I regrettably pull myself from the security of his arms.

"Clothes off and lie down," I command. Ethan raises a brow at me, showing he's a little shocked by my demand. His smile, however, tells me he likes it. He quickly sheds his clothes and lies face down on the bed.

"No peeking," I say while removing my bra and panties. I grab the oil from the nightstand and pour a liberal amount in my palm then rub my hands together. I slide my hands over his back and down over his backside, eliciting a moan from Ethan before I move myself into position. I shift and sit on top of his butt, cautious about fully putting my weight on him. "Is this okay? I'm not too heavy, am I?"

His barely intelligible grunt of no helps me relax a little more fully on top of him.

Per Hollywood protocol, I've trimmed myself so that I'm mostly exposed. I can't help but grind against him, my bare skin seeking friction with his.

"Emily, that feels so good, but I can't stand it. I gotta turn over and see you."

I rise up to allow Ethan to turn. His hands immediately glide up my legs, his thumbs moving inward. They brush against the smooth skin that hides my clit.

"Say it for me."

I know what he wants, as it has been Ethan's new fascination. I turn red because no matter how many times I say it, I know it will embarrass me.

"Come on, say pussy for me. Tell me how you want my tongue on your pussy, then your mouth on my cock."

I respond with a small yet nervous laugh. "Come on, my sweet baby girl," Ethan coaxes.

Anything for this man...

"First, Ethan," I begin with a little attitude. I can do this, and possibly without giggling. "I want my mouth on your cock." I make sure to punctuate the word cock. "Then I want your mouth on my... pussy. And after I've screamed your name...I want your cock in my pussy," I say wanting to add a little naughtiness.

That should do it.

"Holy - " Ethan doesn't finish his thought as his words are replaced with vowel sounds when my mouth takes him in. It took me a few tries to get used to the idea of his...cock...in my mouth, but now there are times I crave it. Ethan says the same thing about going down on me.

"Bring that pussy up here. I need you in my mouth. God, Emily, I - "

I know what he means, even though he doesn't finish saying it. It's always like this, and I hope it always will be. Sometimes, I think I could just come without him touching me; just thinking about his hands and mouth on me is enough. I feel like this level of obsession can't be healthy, though and I shouldn't want someone so much, so often.

"Oh fuck....fuck, fuck. Emily, stop." Ethan lifts me off of him and lays me on my stomach. He licks down my spine and softly bites my ass. His hands grab at my flesh, separating my cheeks. "Push your ass up a little, baby. Let me see that perfect little pussy."

Unnnfff...

As soon as I comply, his tongue is back on me, tasting me. He's a master at this now. His thumbs rub at my clit while his tongue lavishes attention to my pussy. It only takes a minute before I'm panting and trying to grind my pelvis into the bed. "Nuh uhh. Keep those hips up," Ethan reminds me.

As much as I enjoy this, I really want the main event.

"Ethan," I moan. I hope my needy groan tells him I can't wait anymore.

"Don't beg. Never beg, sweetheart."

Ethan pushes me forward, and my chest is now pressed into the mattress. He holds his cock and strokes me a few times before drawing back and sliding inside me. The description of fullness seems so trite, but it's the most accurate description. When Ethan enters me, we are connected, one in mind, body, and soul. "I wish you could see this, Emily; how my cock glides in and out of you...seeing your wetness on my dick."

Ethan stops and runs his hand down through my lips, gathering moisture. "Turn over."

He grasps his cock and begins to stroke himself. Within seconds, his lips are back on my breast, tugging at my nipple with his teeth. After a few more moments, he leans back, hooks my thighs with his forearms, and pulls me forward. He wastes no time in aligning himself and sliding home again. With my legs pushed back, he can get so much deeper and I feel him in my belly. His thrusts become aggressive and I know that he's close.

"Do you want me to take you this way, or do you want to ride me, so I can see your tits bounce?" Ethan quickly adjusts himself so that he's sitting up. He pulls me into his lap. "Or maybe like this, so I can see your perfect face and the glisten of sweat that forms on your nose as you come?"

All of Ethan's dirty talk is driving me crazy, and quite frankly, I don't care how we get the job done because I'm ready to burst. He lies back, pulling me with him. His hands knead the flesh of my breasts as I moan and writhe on top of him. "I want to come inside you, baby," he pleads.

I'll never deny him.

As soon as we are connected again, we grasp hands, me using him for leverage. The first few times we did it this way, I felt self-conscious, but now I love the feeling of control and power I have to bring him to his end, to coax his lust and love from his body as it spills into mine.

I meet my climax first, but Ethan soon follows. We collapse together, me still on top of him. I hug him like a child hugs her favorite teddy bear, and feel safe, warm, and satisfied.

We lay together for a while, just caressing and kissing. It is always like this - the tenderness afterward. We'd never... deep breath... fucked. I adored our lovemaking, but also wanted to know what it felt like to be taken in the dressing room of Victoria Secret or the bathroom stall at a nightclub. But we had time, time to experience all of those things. This was the end of one year in a long line of many. Margie says that's love and I just need to go with it. She explained there is a natural progression and I won't always ache for him. She explained that-- eventually, he'll just be a small pain in my ass.

"I love you, Ethan."

"I love you, Emily. Happy anniversary."