My body remembers him…

It seems like ages pass by between one touch and the other and in between I don’t know who forgets about whom… or who longs for whom… I do miss him and I keep reminding myself that he’s not mine to miss… But, even when my mind forgets, my body remembers, it longs for him… It misses being touched and felt and being looked at with eyes of lust and desire…

I’ve been dreaming of him for the past couple of days… a combination of real and wet and passionate dreams. Last night, he gave me a massage and it wasn’t about the fuck… more about my the longing for his touch…

I could feel his hands on my naked skin… the gentle rubbing of my body… each part of my back receiving slow and deep attention as I involuntarily arched and moaned and bit my lip… I could feel his hands stroking up and down my legs and massaging my inner thighs and butt, barely brushing against my wet pussy… I remember feeling him turning me over that could see him looking straight at me with eyes full of hunger… I could feel him caressing my breast so smoothly… his tongue on my nipples, rolling on them…

He got on the table and kissed me a smooth and passionate kiss and then firmly rolled me on top of him… only then I could feel how hard he was… and I felt his thrushes in me… my wetness leaking… and his heartbeat rising underneath my palms, as I moved up on down on him… and then side-ways we suddenly were, with him behind me…

I woke up feeling him yet still behind me, as if just one minute ago, his hot breath was panting on me,… but then he disappeared!

I don’t know whether it is him or that because he knows me and that I opened up to him more than anyone I built this attachment to him… an attachment that really scares me… it makes me feel vulnerable in a time where I should rediscovering myself alone,…

But I cannot stop longing for that touch that never comes…

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