pieces of
I miss his hands. The way he would cradle my face in his strong warm hands and lean in to me, pressing his lips against mine. His lips pushing mine open and his tongue sweeping inside- just for a taste…of me. I am his weakness. His wine. I am the one he craves, the sex he desires, and the flesh he surrenders to.
I miss the scent of his skin. The way I can still smell his clean sweat on my skin after he’s laid on top of me. After he’s penetrated my body and I’m lost in him. After he owns me and surrenders to me. He is the my master and my slave.
He fucks me with abandon. Stripping himself of the tie that bind him. Releasing me from my demons and together we are whole.
I miss you.
~~And, I’m glad I didn’t miss reading this.
~~Your paragraphs stir the lonely heart, and fill it with throbbing
heat.
Love your writing,
and you.
xx,Will. (there. Sometimes, you need to tell the people you love..)Take care, BBG.
Very nice.
Of course I like the hot stuff too, but this was heartfelt and sensuous. Thanks,
Mike