Night one without you, the pain was so raw -- a million short breaths, shallow breathing through a straw.
Slide my chair in front of yours, a coffee table in between. My legs stretched out gently brush the side of your pants.
Warning: Contains explicit language and graphic sexual references. Only for readers 18+.
At that very moment, your hand finds the softest warmth on the inside of my thighs. As told, I’m not wearing panties —rules for whenever we meet. I like pleasing you. Holding my breath, I anxiously wait to see if you’ll check my obedience. You do. And I exhale into your touch.
There are moments when the world closes in on me quickly. Moments when I have forgotten how full-tilt crazy things can get in just a blink.
I close my eyes and you are there, your scent, your touch, your song. My body, remembering the trace of your hands lightly over my curves, responds in sensational tingles and deep breaths. Deeply, I breathe in, remembering your smile and your eyes, while mine are closed tightly. I never wanted to look away. I never wanted to leave. But like this, I’ll always have you.
Writing is therapy. Get the words and thoughts out of your head and onto the screen or paper. Breathe.