I miss how he used to make love to me. He would show up for the weekend, and ten minutes into his visit, we were wrapped in each other’s arms making our love deeper and deeper with every kiss. His long, smooth hands would caress my body as if it was the last time he would ever touch me. He was so smooth, and passionate. Like he was jealous of our distance, and the fact that I belonged to someone else.

One day, he looked into my eyes and it was like my clothes melted off me. Like there was some kind of magic that just drew our bodies together so close together it was as though we were each other’s skin. It felt wrong, for cheating on my man, but it was so right because I knew that he loved me. So much so, that one day he put a diamond ring on my finger. That , however is another story is for another day.

His lips were soft, and full. Like dripping cherries. He held me as though it was the last time he would ever hold me. Like his truck would be taken away, and the distance would get the best of us. One day it did.. He married someone else, and so did I. His eyes stared right through me. His almond shaped hazel eyes. He loved me, I could feel it with every stroke of his manhood. Those nights my screams were raw, and deep. Nails were dug firmly into his back as he mounted me and stayed there, deeper and deeper. His hands desperately gripping my shoulders pulling me closer to him while his dick burned inside of me over and over. His ten inches tortured my very soul over and over. In and out, in and out. He owned me with every passionate luscious second. 

Sweat dripping down my shoulders, falling down the small of my back. His smooth voice whispering in my ear ” You are mine”. I used to get chills through my body every time I heard his voice. When he said it, I believed it. I really was his. So many positions over the passionate hours. Me on top, our bodies rubbing up against each other. His hands on my hips, longing for me to go deeper and deeper into his existence. “Mine”, he would say as he looked at my body girating on top of him, in and out, up and down. My breasts, full and thick, longing for his big juicy tongue. I was addicted to his tongue and how it would eat my womanhood. It would vibrate inside of me. At times, he would hum inside of my wet, deep, huge vig.

My hands would play with his thick wavy hair and pull his head closer to me while he would indulge in me. I like it. I liked it alot. His muscles would tense up and release as my body enjoyed it. I knew my roommates knew I was having an affair. Every time he and I would leave the bedroom the glow of our skin would give it away. He taught me how to release my inhibitions. Orgasms like what we experienced came only once in a lifetime. I remember one time he took me over the edge of the bed, ripped my clothes off and spread my legs and taught me something. I can enjoy sex too. I can still see his eyes looking deep inside of me whispering to me to just let go off my inhibitions and just let it out. As he pumped me, it felt tighter and tighter. He kept getting bigger and bigger inside of me, hitting every spot that made me feel anything. All of a sudden, I got a warm feeling between my legs, somewhere between extreme heat and a really hard urge to pee. I told him how I felt, and he told me to let it go and enjoy it. It was an orgasm. Since then, that is how I have wanted to feel when I am being made love to. I often think of him and his love making when I am in the throws of passion.. He had the greatest passion for me. I would have married him…..