I drank in every moment of the experience. Everything was warm and wet and passionate. I cried out until my asthma made me wheeze. His breath and scent enveloped me. The gentle but firm grip of his hands... The look in his eyes, and his soft whimpers that only I ever hear. His soft skin and the way his body fits against mine.
Knowing how I am... I tend to come across as treating sex as sex. Wild and rough and uninhibited. It's what turns me on. "Making love" had always sounded sappy to me. But sometimes I fear he mistakes that for being as simple as it sounds... I never want him to feel like what I have with him is not special... Giving all of myself to him was not a light decision. What I have with him is not something that I could just get from anyone. The amount of love and trust I feel for him is reserved for him alone. I do not have sex with him because it feels good. I have sex with him because I intend to spend my life with him.
As I sat atop him tonight, connected with him, holding him completely against me, I whispered my love to him. With three words I tried to express how much I care for him, how much I need him, and how grateful I am to have him in my life. My eyes started to tear up, and I wanted that moment to last forever.
Now that he's gone home, everything feels a little colder around me...
I miss his warmth.