I wanted to cum inside you like that, one hand in your hair, one holding your hips, my cock throbbing as spurt after spurt of my hot, thick cum shot deep inside your pussy. I wanted to finally pull out, come around and have you suck my softening cock clean, tasting the mixing of our juices, making me moan and shudder as you tongue and suck and kiss my limp, but oh-so-sensitive manhood. And then i wanted to eat you. I wanted to lay you back on that bed and kiss your mouth, then your neck, then your tits, your stomach-tonguing your belly button, then slowly down alongside your pussy first on one side, then on the other, building your anticipation for when your lover's hungry lips and firm tongue would finally feast on that well-fucked pussy. I wanted to caress your thighs and slide my hands under your ass, to squeeze and lift your body up to my lips. I wanted to nibble and lick and suck, in slowly accelerating, wet, and passionate rhythms, making patterns over and around your clit with my tongue, kissing the lips of my mouth to the smooth lips of your pussy, moaning myself at how fucking good you taste, at the smell of pussy and cum firing off every neuron that recognizes the smell, the taste, the feel of sex, sex, delicious sex. I would want to penetrate you again with my tongue at first, and then my middle fingers, sucking and licking at your clit while i finger fuck you with a firm "come hither" motion. I wanted to make you cum, again and again, until your pussy was too damn sensitive and ticklish to handle any more. I wanted to make you moan, yell, and fuck, even scream with pleasure.
And then i wanted to climb up next to you, lick the pussy juices and cum off my fingers, wrap my arms around you and kiss you soft and quiet, then just lay there in each other's arms, looking into each other's eyes, trying to read every happy, lustful thought behind the other's blissful face. And then, if time allowed, to sleep. A nap, a night, it hardly matters, just to enjoy the afterglow of passionate fucking, the closeness of a trusted lover's body, a time to drift off together and pretend that tomorrow will never come, never end our comfort, our pleasure, our peace.
I wanted to live a different life. One where we were each other's and did not each belong to another. Or at least to be oblivious to the risk, the impractical, inescapable costs of adultery with abandon. I wanted to be morally uninhibited, while still enjoying all the qualities of character and care for you that would only have grown in the soil of those very moral inhibitions i warred with for you. I wanted to have all the pleasure without the pain, all the coitus without the consequence, all the meaning without the morality, all the desire without any duty. I wanted the impossible, as do we all. Seeing only one side of a coin and imagining we could hold just that without the other as well. Willful naivety. Denial, unquestionably. Fanciful dreams. Utter foolishness.
And yet, all of that is still what i wanted, what i still often want. To be content is not not wanting. To be content is to want and accept not having. To not want is only lifelessness, not wisdom. And so i want. And i accept not having. I wisely do not pursue foolishness merely because i want the pleasure of it. I want you, but i will not have you.