Telling stories, allegories, letting ourselves go

“Did you miss me, baby?”

I thought briefly about the million and one things I could or wanted to say to him when he asked me, all the little ways in which I had missed him, and all of the small ways in which I worried that things might be different or strange between us. I felt the hesitation I always feel when He returns from a trip or when I do… the small inkling that we are different people than we had been before our absence from one another. All the things that may have happened, all the words left unspoken.

“More than you could know,” I murmured. It was the truest answer I could conjure up. When I was away, learning and teaching in the neon desert, I had missed him terribly. “Did you miss me?”

“I did, Pooh.”

I peel off my clothing and stand before him in matching red and black plaid. He is amused and aroused. He loves red and black plaid. I climb onto the bed on all fours with my ass up and my back arched. My much shorter hair no longer hides my inked up shoulders.

His hands roam briefly before pushing my panties to the side and filling me with one sharp, deep thrust. I lose myself in the feel of him, and the sounds of his voice, gravelly and deep in my ear. His praises and his pleasure resonate deep within me. We are fervent and feverish. I need this. My core heats and spreads out to my skin. I feel the familiar fire in my belly early and quick. He makes me beg for the privilege. Reasserting our relationship. Reasserting that I am his and come at his pleasure. He lets me. He fucks me through my orgasm.

He talks to me through my moans and cries. He rides me hard and moans in my ear. I am wailing and praising him. How good he feels. How much I missed him. How much I missed the way he touches me. How much I need him to fill me, to mark me, to make me his again. As his climax builds, he is already working me to my second. In my haze, in my feverish little mind, my mouth keeps running and I am unaware of what I am saying. Dirty, lovely things. Baring myself to him in so many ways.

He asks if I’m going to come again. He wants me to come with him. He’s so close. Something he says, some words I can barely remember now send me over the edge for the second time. The clenching, roiling, vibrations of my body, some words that I speak make him groan from the bottom of his toes. He’s cumming, filling me  up, just the way I want. Just the way I need.

Our bodies break apart and he turns me over, onto my back. I quickly scoot my bum down the bed and wrap my legs around the back of his thighs. His hands peel my bra down and he pulls my heavy breasts out. His fingers stroke over my skin. He praises my tits: how soft and big and beautiful they are, such pretty nipples, such a sight. I blush beneath him as he admires me. We curl around one another like the fog outside the windows, curling round the city streets. I fall asleep before I know that I am tired.

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