When you wake in the still dark, skin flushing hot from fevered dreams, do your fingertips seek mine as you surface from the depths of slumber? When your eyes flutter against the black night of early morning, and you feel the blood surge through your veins, roaring with need, do you reach across the sheets to caress your memories?
Do you feel the ghost of my lips? My teeth, my tongue? The gentle nip of my kisses behind your ear, under your adam’s apple? Does the soft suck of my mouth at your nipple fill your imagination while your burgeoning hard swells, hot and pulsing in your hand?
When you stroke your thumb over your tip, is it my wet you feel when you pull forth your own glossy slick? When you tighten your fist, caressing your cock, down and up and down again, do you shudder? Do you recall the ripple and pull of my velvet soft and wish you buried there again?
When it’s too much to take and you close your eyes against the heaviness gathering tight at the base of your cock, is it my weight you feel liesurely riding, pressing, steadily demanding?
When your breathing turns ragged and your voice is stolen by moans punctuated with harsh pants, do you push through the pleasure to formulate the words you know I need from you?
Do you say please?
Do you hold out, hold back, waiting?
Cum for me.
Do you do as I ask?
When you start to twitch and spurt, do you push, deep and hard, thrusting strong against the massaging clench of my tight heat?
Do you feel the kiss of my cervix fluttering against your head as you spend yourself?
Do you fill me, even when I’m not there?
When you call my name into the dark, do you know I hear it, despite the miles between us?
Do you listen to your own echo back in sweet low tones as you drift again to dream?
Do you know you are never without me, even when I’m not there?
You are mine, love. Awake, asleep, and at any distance, no matter how far.
I know that.