Him

A loss of that perfect love.

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I miss his gentle touch, a light finger that traced my curves, a hand, smooth across my skin.

I miss the strength that came from his limbs. The muscular tension that I felt when his arms encircled me and pulled me towards him.

I miss the excitement and the gathering passion which came as our bodies met, the gradual hardness that pressed into my body.

My mouth became a sensual pleasure for him as it encompassed that beautiful shaft. Taking it as deep as I dare, moving my head with the rhythm of oral intercourse. Then with my hand firmly gripping, pulling his foreskin back, my tongue testing the sensitivity of his arousal.

The fingers that gradually moved downwards entering the softness of my womanhood lifting my pleasure as I continued to grasp that solid member which was keen to enter me. I could taste the slight saltiness of the silken lubrication on the head. I knew that my own secretions which flowed from me would ease the entry of his penetration.

As he moved towards me, light pressures as my vaginal lips were pushed open by him and then he entered, we were one. His mouth on my breast sucking at my nipples. My clitoris, now swollen with the act of love, so sensitive to his movements.

Now he was moving and the rhythmic pleasure was mine. My greatest desire was to make him feel that same pleasure. His lovemaking was not yet complete as the hardness of his shaft left me to be replaced by the firmness of his mouth and then the exquisitely beautiful feeling of his tongue as like a thief it entered and then as quickly left, moving upwards to that little nub straining from its hood, demanding his attention. My hands caressed his face, the slight scratchiness of his manly stubble under my palms as I began to guide him. Helping him find the places that gave me such exquisite pleasure.

He knew my body, knew that my orgasm was close as once more he slipped into me. Our movements together, took on the urgency of release. Our bodies joined in the flush of excitement, our breathlessness, our hearts pounding, oblivious to everything except the culmination of that wonderful act of love.

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I lay now in that same warm, soft bed but now those hands and fingers are mine. I touch myself, fascinated at the amount of moisture that my body has provided. I allow my fingers to enter to explore my inner walls. When I raise my fingers to my mouth, I taste the secretions and wonder at the taste of it, the slight musky odour that makes my senses swim.

When I return to the source of that liquidity, my body tenses as I explore the hardness of my sweet clitoris, a touch that lifts me towards the release that I need. My excitement builds but I wait.

I wait, my hands now idle. In my mind, I feel him moving inside me. I move my fingers once again on that sweet bud. The feeling builds once more. Once more I wait, lost in the dreaminess of my lone gratification. My mind drifting through the space around me, the dopamine in my brain controlling my secret pleasure.

Almost without thought, two fingers enter and crook upwards to touch the sensitive spot deep within me. The finger of my other hand moves, it begins a slow but insistent massage of my expectant clitoris.

I am close. This time, I don't stop.

I come and the waves of pleasure sweep over me with the pulsations of the orgasm. The walls of my womanhood grip and release the fingers which try as they might, cannot surpass the rhythmical throbbing of his hardness inside me as I felt his release. The seed that flowed into me from him. The pleasure that I felt as he slowly lost that hardness and slipped quietly from me, a lasting memory imprinted in my mind.

I need more. The muscular contractions of the orgasm have hardly died away before I start an urgent and rhythmic pressure on my clitoris. I move harder and faster, my breath comes in small gasps, I hear myself panting, gasping for air, the blood pounding in my ears. I become frantic for a rapid release. The determination to pass the pinnacle grips me. I am exhausted but it comes. A hard exciting orgasm which crashes through my exhaustion, bringing that fairly won escape from the world around me

Laying here as I so often do after my lone exertions, the unfairness sweeps over me, the emptiness that I feel in my soul returns and I brush away a tear before sleep overcomes me. I dream my dreams and sometimes in the darkness of the night I hear his breathing or catch the sound of his voice.

When I wake I am alone again and I know he is gone forever. I cannot bring him back. Another day begins and my only pleasure will be the ritual of my loneliness when I can conjure up my desires and slip deep into the shell that he left as though he were still there.