TuesdayPosted: January 19, 2016
He smoked his first of the day on the balcony. It was cold. 7 degrees. The crisp sky was filled with stars and a passing plane.
He woke missing Her today, missing Her body. Hungry. Today marked seven days since He had felt Her next to Him. She had been attentive, calling and texting. Affirming. But calls and texts couldn’t replace tracing Her lines with His finger, feeling Her softness in His arms, the intimacy of two becoming one.
If He were there, He would wake Her gently. She would be on Her side, Her back to His chest. His right arm beneath Her head, hand cradling Her breast. His left would run the length of Her body.
Eventually, She would begin to wake. Moving against Him. His fingers exploring, dancing on favorite places. Her breath quickening. Her body moving rhythmically. His thrusts meeting Hers. Her moans becoming louder, more urgent, until…
After, He would hold Her, safe under covers and filling His arms. The Best Part.
As He finished his cigarette, He looked forward to the weekend.