To Miss a Lover

Do you know what it is to miss a lover? To feel his absence in your skin, in the cooling outlines of his hand on your stomach, in the thin, bloodless scratches down your back? To see his memory printed on your body in dark purple bite marks, to picture his lips just there on your thigh, and to ache for every part of him deep within?

There is the need to physically possess him, to see the porcelain of his skin between the dark of your own fingers, to grasp the flesh of his arms and his buttocks and pull him into you; and then there is the need for the intangible: his quickened breath, the sound of your name in his mouth, his darkened green eyes, a shiver through his shoulders as he enters you. Alone, you think of him and close your eyes, you bring your hand down your thigh and imagine that it is his fingers pushing into you. And you plan: you plan exactly how you will fuck him when you have him next.

He will take your hand and invite you into his bedroom, and you will pull the door closed behind you and lock it. Before your hand has left the doorknob you will pull him to you, fingers twisted in the collar of his shirt, and as you kiss him his hands will find your waist, your ass, the hair at the nape of your neck. He will grasp frantically at your dress, at your hair, and you think he will rip everything apart.

So you push him onto the bed, you straddle him, and you kiss him long and hard. As you unbutton his shirt, he will draw his hand up the back of your thigh and under your panties, his fingers grazing your lips. And you will take a sash from your purse, push his arms above his head, and tie his wrists to the slotted headboard. You are in charge. You will savor the look in his eyes: the mingled shock, apprehension, and anticipation, the agony of being unable to touch you clear as he bucks his hips up between your legs.

With both hands in his hair, you push back, rubbing your hips up and down against the heat of his erection, quickening your pace as he moans. You will push your teeth into his neck and lick the budding bruise, and as you kiss him, you will whisper into his mouth, "You are mine: you belong to me." You will silence his gasp with your kiss, and your hand, moving down his chest, will curl so that your nails leave long red marks in their wake. Your tongue flicks his earlobe and the kick of his hips is involuntary, his body pleading with you.

You will pull your dress over your head and unhook your bra, throwing both aside. And as he watches helplessly, you will look him in the eye and push your hand into your panties, cupping one breast as you touch yourself. Pleasuring yourself with his pain, the warmth of him just under you as you cum. His face will be all disbelief and lust and he will struggle against his ties, hating your unfairness. You will lean forward, your hands over his on the headboard, and lower your breast into his mouth, and his tongue will swirl over your skin as his teeth close over your nipple.

Your breath catching in your throat, you will tell him, "Good boy," and kiss across his collarbone and down his stomach, the wet trail of your lips cooling on his skin. You will unlatch his belt, unzip his pants, and dip your tongue into his boxers, the tip meeting the head of his cock. He inhales sharply and you pull everything off of him, shoes and slacks and boxers, leaving him in nothing but an unbuttoned button-down.

His cock will stand straight against his stomach, hard and hot, and you will circle your fingers around the shaft and trace the head over the contours of your torso - your stomach, your breasts, the nipple wet with his saliva - and he will twist beneath you whispering "please" and your name in turns. To answer his pleas, you will push aside your panties and straddle his face and demand that he get you wet.

Eager to gratify you, his tongue reaches over your clit, across your lips, and into you. His eyes will look up into yours, his gaze almost innocent in his concentration. You pull his hair, hard, and cum in his mouth. And now, to reward him: you will slide down and take his cock into your mouth, tasting the salt of his skin with your tongue as you push him into your throat. You replace your mouth with your hand, stroking his shaft as you suck his balls. And finally, the soaked crotch of your panties pushed aside, you will straddle him, holding the head of his cock against your pussy, and tell him to beg.

He will try a number of supplications - "Please, I want you so badly; please, I need you right now; oh, god, please, I'll do anything for you..." - but at last he will murmur, "I am yours," and you will slide down and fill yourself with him.