Addicted

I can’t forget the incredible feeling
Of your skin pressed against my own.
Or the way your tongue did things
That made me writhe and moan.

The way you handle it is sexy,
And the things you do are just right.
You make my body get hot;
You make my head get light.

Your lips are a sweet candy,
Filled with liquor so strong.
You got me feenin’ for you,
Like a damned Jodeci song.

And when you slid in slowly,
It was a delightful tease;
But then you went all in,
And made me weak in the knees.

Your mouth tasted so good,
You felt so amazing inside.
You held me so close,
Made me feel so alive.

Swept away with desire,
In your current I was captured.
I could have drowned in ecstasy;
Enjoying your waves of rapture.

I was well beyond satisfied,
Yet I am anxious for more.
I look forward to you again
Crashing into my shores.

 

 

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His Kisses

She can’t stop thinking about his kisses.

After 20 years, she honestly didn’t remember what his kisses felt like. She couldn’t remember the taste and softness of his lips. But I wanted to be reminded that day.

He hugged her, held her, but when he squeezed a handful of her ass, she knew she had to take her shot.

He pulled his head back from her shoulder and tried to turn, but she held his chin and brought her mouth to his.

He tasted amazing. His lips were unbelievably tender. And she suddenly remembered every kiss she had ever shared with him.

He wasted no time, touching her lips with his tongue. So gently, so perfectly. The way he kissed her back was electrifying, and she knew she was alive. Just like when he had moved her off the curb the week before.

And now? She couldn’t forget his kisses if she tried. The way his lips caress, the way his tongue flicks, the intoxicating taste and smell of him. She drinks his kisses in like a liquor, and forgets the world around her.

She could spend hours tracing his luscious lips with her fingers, her tongue, her toes, her lips… She wants to feel those lips on every inch of her. She can’t stop thinking about it. She can’t stop thinking about him.

She misses his kisses. They make her feel like a damned capable woman.

She misses his kisses. They make her feel sexy and irresistible.

She misses his kisses. They are a whole world of ecstasy, and only his kisses have ever made her orgasm without any other stimulation.

She is so glad she kissed him that day. Even if she never got to kiss him again, she knows every kiss they have shared until now will be with her for the rest of her life.

She will never forget those kisses again. They are the only ones she can even remember anymore.

 

image by Steve K Art

Any Given Sunday

Sundays are the worst, the hardest. She has come to dread Sundays.

She turns on the game. Some beasts versus some other beasts. She isn’t really interested, she just hopes it will make her feel close to him. She is barely paying attention as she watches the men run down the field, throwing and tackling.

All that she wants is to be with him. Knowing this is what he does on this day and doing it too was supposed to make her feel better. It does not. If anything she feels worse.

Her heart aches. Her throat is dry. She wants to cry, but has no tears left to shed. She is broken. She is starving. She is dying. She needs him in a way she never should have allowed herself to need anyone.

One of the Bears or Lions or Seahawks or other animals scores a touchdown. She really doesn’t care. She turns off the game. It didn’t make her feel anything except the void where he should be: with her, holding her, making love to her, making her laugh, making her world complete.

What is strangely harder though, is how much she hurts because she can’t do all that she wants to do for him and with him. She can’t comfort him, can’t cheer him up, can’t fill his stomach, can’t make him smile, can’t rock his world. It pains her to know she can’t give him all she longs to give him. All that she knows he desires and needs.

She feels drained, empty, alone. She doesn’t know what to do next. She checks her messages.

Nothing.

A whole lot of nothing.

Nothing feels good anymore.

Nothing but his arms, his voice, his laughter, looking into his eyes, being wrapped up with him.

Nothing, but him.

 

 

Ecstatic Love

Her love for him does not cease,
It goes on, always and forever.
No matter what else gets in the way,
She is his without end, ever.

There is no escaping the chemistry;
Nothing can change the way she feels.
She loves him beyond all reasoning;
Desire and passion have never been more real.

He is the moon watching over her in the night sky,
He makes life meaningful and exciting.
He knows that he is her everything,
The way he completes her there’s just no denying.

She loves him from the top of his sexy bald head,
To the soles of his beautiful feet.
She wants to kiss and lick every inch of him;
It’s beyond ecstasy when their bodies meet.

She wants to do things with him she never wanted to before.
He brings out her adventurous side.
She wants to feel him in the various spaces,
Ones she didn’t think she’d ever like.

He makes her boil, then brings her down from the edge,
With his cool, all-knowing ways.
He opens her up to infinite pleasures
With his actions and the words he says.

She cries out that she loves him; he knows it’s true.
Tell him something he doesn’t know, right?
She will think of something, but in the meantime,
She reminds him, he is perfect in her sight.

 

image by Steve K Art

All of It

A little over a year ago…

She loves him with all her heart.

It’s not very eloquent, nor is it an original sentiment, but it’s ever so true. It’s how she feels any given moment of the day.

The way her heart aches in his absence and swells in his presence.

The way it skips a beat when he says her name and beats out a rhythm that says his name.

The way it feels as though her heart will burst when she is wrapped up with him, yet it feels like a vice grip squeezing the life out when he goes.

Her heart is so far gone, she doesn’t know that she’ll ever find it again. But she does know he will keep it safe and cherish it, so lost in him is not without hope.

Yes, it’s been said before; by many a person she is certain, but she sincerely doubts anyone else’s heart could love him like hers does.

Eight Months Ago

She didn’t know why she was still sending him messages. Technically, it was only the third one.

She missed him fiercely. She missed her best friend. She missed the love of her life.

She went through and started re-reading the things she wrote for him, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was the one she was made for. No one will ever be him. EVER. She will not be able to love or be loved the way she did and was with and by him.

She is wrecked without him. She goes to bed every night, hoping tomorrow will be the day he calls her, but he doesn’t call, and she dies a little bit inside.

She doesn’t know what to do without him… he is everything to her. She can’t function without him. She is falling apart, losing her grip, giving up. She just can’t…

She knows she has to stop. She has to let go. He left. He said goodbye. She just doesn’t know how she is supposed to let go. Genuinely.

She thinks about him every second of every day. She thinks about him at work, at the store, on the road, when she’s in bed, the shower…it will always be HIM. He will always be the only one for her.

She is sorry. She is so very sorry for all the trouble they caused. She wishes she could take it back, just so he would be ok. She would rather have never had a second chance with him than to lose him like this.

To know people got hurt, and her heart was not the only one at stake is enough to drive her insane. But to have caused him hurt… She doesn’t know how to live with herself. She is indescribably sorry.

She will always love him. Always and forever. She loves him completely. Infinitely. She told him she will stop sending him messages now. Especially since she is certain he isn’t getting them.

She is only taking the chance beacuse she wants him to know, she is here. She will always be here, if he ever needs her. He possesses her heart. He always has.

The Toughest Decisions

Decisions. Choices. Crossroads. Quandaries. Call them what you will, they are a part of life.

Sometimes they are simple and have little overall significance like, “What kind of toothpaste should I buy?” or “Which earrings should I wear?”

Other times, they are life-altering like, “Which job am I going to take?” or “Who am I going to live and breathe for?”

Some choices are black and white: good versus evil, right versus wrong. Some are shades of grey: mind versus heart, body versus soul, self interest versus the best interest of others.

These grey choices are often the most difficult. They can tear you up, inside and out. They can destroy your health and sanity. They can make you angry and miserable. They can overwhelm you to the point of taking desperate measures. But they often hold the greatest rewards.

Navigating that difficult grey area, where there is no obvious answer, no definite answers is hard, but fulfilling. Making a choice, that decision, any decision, rather than living in a place of indecisiveness, in those circumstances, holds freedom and relief and joy. You just have to have the courage to step out in faith and do what your heart tells you to do.

That is the nature of the impasse they found themselves at: an impossible decision either way. Totally unfair in a way, but ever so necessary. And only he could choose for the the both of them.

She had decided back on day one; hands down, no questions asked, he is what she wants, and he is worth the risk.  She had gotten them halfway there, but he had to come the other half himself.

Standing by his side, she would gladly cover the distance with him, but she could not cover it for him. And so she waited. She waited and she waited. Sometimes patiently, sometimes not. But at all times with a heart full of love and understanding for him and the situation he was in, ready for anything.