Longing for his touch – Her Perspective
I lie in bed alone, longing for R to be lying next to me. To have his naked body pressed against mine. We don’t have to be fucking, just to feel his touch, his kiss, his skin on mine would be enough.
But then, if he were naked next to me, could I resist? Would I be able not to respond to his kisses on my neck? Could I resist the primal pull to move closer to smell his scent? This would be something I do not know until I try. Up until this point, I MUST be touching him at all times when in his presence. All the touches do not need to be sexually motivated, but there must be contact.
I find the scent of his skin, the tone of his voice, the sarcasm of his speech, and the tingle of his touch intoxicating. I cannot get enough of it. I cannot get enough of him. He makes me smile when I don’t think I have a smile left inside of my body. He gets my jokes and sarcasm like no other. He knows my body as if he feels what I feel, knowing exactly what and how I want to be touched, licked, kissed, and fucked.
The time we spend together flies by, whether we are sharing a drink, chatting on a park bench, or fucking the hell out of one another. From the moment we part, I long for the next moment when I will see him again. The clock seems to stand still until that moment finally arrives.
I still get butterflies in my stomach before we meet. A little nervous about seeing him, but always full of excitement. Saying good-bye is torture, as we part, he always takes a piece of my heart with him.