You are all I want, your existence consumes me. Our love separates us physically most days, but ties us infinitely everyday. Every night. How can I forget your lips, hard dick, mouth, every part of you on every part of me? Slipping in and out, hard, soft, your hands… Yes, your hands I think of the most. Your grasp, your grip, the palms, like the cool sensation of a surgeon’s touch. I never like the doctor’s office, but I like the sensations. Anyway, you know what to do. My breath always quick even when I can’t see you. Especially when I can’t see you.
You love women. You’ve loved them since the first moment you masturbated to thoughts of one, trying to recall every part of one. You love them in the most perverse, most beautiful ways; most intimate and dark ways. You don’t just notice the curves, you notice the lines in between, fantasizing yourself in between. I’m familiar with your ways. It’s okay, my love, your secrets. I like to hear the stories of your now chance encounters, though, you insist this arrangement is only to appease me until you see me. True, I don’t want you to be lonely ever. You’re too young, too beautiful, too much… Too sweet taboo. “Ma…,” his heavy breath.
“My, love. Tell me.” I replied.
Of course she’s not me. She doesn’t moan out loud nor flinch nor beg. She doesn’t know what you like to be called or what you crave. She will never call you that word anyway. You know that, right? She won’t understand the anticipation of your touch on plump, pink lips. You love that power, the power that you can make lips so ready and swollen. The control you have that twists between tenderness, hardness, kindness, cruelness. Now that’s another story for another day.
“I hate you,” he scowled.
“I fucked her so hard,
As if I could will you beneath me.
Why can’t we be?
Be in my grip, to drip.
Your nipples, mmm…
Rosy pink, lick, wine to my lips, flick…”
“Tell me about her.” I insist.
“Why won’t you be with me?” He insists more. You always insist more. I imagine she did not know that, you and your ways.
I can hear you grabbing your cock, you’re making my heart race. You picturing me biting my lip, lying under to serve you, only wishing to sip, forcing me to take your tip.
“We can’t. You know this. Seldom time permits. Isn’t it enough to know that I will come to you and only you? To promise you this?" Restless from this conversation.
Truth - It isn’t enough for you. You do not take part in, you do not share, you consume.
“Tell me about her. Describe her, everything, please. I beg you.”
You like that, begging. Makes me think of Monterrey. The glass pane pressed against my full, milky breasts, spread out. Me begging you to cum, my thighs propped up and tired. You wrapping your hand around my slender throat, fucking me as if it’s the last time, draining every part of me, mouthing on my cheek, “You’re mine, understand?” You always demand acknowledgement, a young man’s vanity. I feel nothing other than you are home, I’m wife, I’m yours. And you’re the shield who demands, needs, takes, marks. How did you know that? To fuck me so I would remember and keep wanting. Hmm...
