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How Bad…

My mind reels with thoughts of you.  All day.

I want to ask you questions, keep the conversation going.  All day.  Stupid questions too…

Questions like what your favourite colour is or what your favourite food is.

My brain hurts from having your face in my head all day.  I swear I have it memorized, that face.

Your eyes and your nose and your lips and your ears.  That damn line-up.  Your eyes.  Your mouth.  And those goddamn teeth of yours.

I hear your voice, randomly.  And I imagine it calling my name.  Over and over and over again.

I think of the length of you and how I want to climb you so bad…how I want to slowly crawl over you and kiss your thighs and your torso…

…your belly and your chest and your neck and your ears, dip my tongue along the edge of your earlobes, hear you moan.  That moan.

And your eyes.  I want to kiss your eyes.

And then I want to sit up on you and slide you, slowly, slide you into me, feeling my walls tear open with the thickness of you.

And then my head instinctively goes back, my eyes close, clear indication of the pleasure you’re filling me with.

I want to ride you slow but my insides want you fast.  My insides want to feel you deep in my belly, so deep that tears form in my eyes.

And thinking of this now, thinking of you now, thinking of how my walls will feel once you’re inside, thinking of how wet you’ll make me, makes me wet.

I feel a slight throbbing deep inside me and my mouth falls open slightly, as my tongue slowly slides across my lips, just from thoughts of you….

…that’s how bad I want you baby.

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Till You’re Ready

You’re still here.  Not as much as before, but you’re here.

You pop in suddenly, like you want to remind me. 

But I don’t need reminders.  I remember you all on my own.

I remember the shape of your eyes, the hue of brown they were, how they shone when you looked at me.

Yes, your eyes shine. 

I remember the smile you didn’t really like, but I loved.  Love.  Still.

And your voice.  I remember it.  And your laugh.  To a tee, I remember.

And your feel.  I remember how you feel when I lay my head on your chest and your heart thumping in excitement or nervousness or whatever it is, but I feel it beating against me and I remember your back muscles and your arms, dear God, why do I remember it just like yesterday?

And then, I wonder if you’re loving, if you’re letting someone love you.  I wonder if you’re touching or who’s touching you.  I wonder who your heart beats for, who’s making your heart beat, who’s got you.

Sometimes, most times, when he’s deep in my walls and I’m closing my eyes and reaching, it’s you above me, you’re helping me reach, you’re helping me get it and get it and get it again.  And it’s your name in my head, your name I see in the darkness of my eyelids, your eyes in my memory, your mouth sucking all the life out of my soul, your teeth biting my lip, your tongue soothing that bite as you moan my name, over and over and over in pleasure.

And when he spills and I adjust my body to accept him, it’s you I’m accepting, you who’s spilling.  And I want to yell out, I want to make you hear me, make you feel me, make you more than just a damn memory.  I want you to feel it, I want you to hear it, I want you to remember.

These damn memories.

They’re here.  They’re not going away.

And I’ll wait.

Until you’re ready.  

For the next time you contact me.