sometimes a memory
I never expect him to call, but I’m always grateful when he does. I love his voice. His rich laughter. I miss his kisses the most. The unique way he kisses me with more lips, pressing against mine and then sweeping his tongue into my mouth, the kisses were deep and passionate, but brief.
He was always the one. The one who came before the others. The one I would have chosen had he just chosen me. The one I would have changed for, the one I could have changed for- I’m certain of it. I miss the way my body fell into his. The way he would push me up against the door the minute I walked in. That click of the door lock became as sexy to me as the way he growled into my ear. His first words telling me how he missed me.
Sometimes when I’m feeling quiet I let my thoughts wander back back to those days. Meeting at his place, or my place, or at work, or any random corner. My favorite was meeting at his place and he’d take me right there in the door way before I followed him to his bedroom to fuck me again. First he’d push me over the arm of his favorite chair. I think he did it so he could smell our sex later. He would finger me first, using the other hand to stroke my back, caress my hair. His strong slender fingers invading my cunt, thrusting and twisting. Rubbing small circles against my g-spot and rubbing my clit with his thumb. All the while, watching me. Watching me arch and writhe and push against him. Beg him to fuck me. He never fucked me without first telling me he loved me. Not once, not ever. It never seemed dirty or wrong. It never seemed like we were sneaking around. It always just seemed right, perhaps that is why it was good, and why it was so hard to let go of.
He would then place me, fucked and raw on that chair. Sitting where he would later be sitting, quietly, innocently, and shove his pussy soaked cock in my mouth. How I miss that cock. I knew it was just me he wanted. I liked knowing that he wasn’t going to be fucking some other girl the next day, or even the day after that. It was me that he craved. I miss the days when just one lover was enough for him, and that one lover was me.
I adored his cock for as long as he would let me. I knew his body. I could suck his cock for a long time because I knew just when he was getting to close- how to build him down without stopping. Sucking his cock slow, bathing his thick shaft slowly until his breathing slowed and I could tell he was less close to orgasm. More than sex, this was adoration. I was a faithful and loving slut and because I knew this would not last forever, I languished every moment.
Soon he would take me by the hand and lead me to his room. It was here that I would get lost. Stretched out on his bed, he would hold my hands down and thrust into me. So deep, so hard it felt like he was going to fuck right through me. My heart and body fell victim to the times we were together. It was a dangerous and addictive drug for me. Rolling on top of him, I would grind and rock, looking down at him, watching him- watching me. My hair hanging down in his face, my sweat rolling off my skin. Pushing and reaching until I came with him, shuddering and calling out his name, my cries fading into the air- disintegrating into the haze above us.
Until I fell, curled next to him, my head resting in his arm wishing I could freeze time. Like the kisses I still craved, these moments never lasted long.
look baby i know you miss me but SHEESH! did you have to post about all my mad skills in PUBLIC?
nah really, i dig your style girl. keep on doin your thing doll!
much love and respect
illi