The Love of Lone Rider and Bunny

I loved her. She was my Bunny, my fuck bunny, my partner in crime, my companion. There is not a day I don't think about her. I miss her humor and wit, and the honesty with which she spoke; I can still hear her voice, her words of unwavering love and encouragement. I miss the easy read of her body language, the way she used to tell me the world without ever saying a word. I miss her companionship.

She was my shelter from the storm, and the well spring of my life. Being with her was magical. She was never sparse with her affection always having a word, a look, a touch, which could ignite or quell me, as she desired. In her, I was placid, tranquil and obedient to her love. She pushed and challenged me; she lifted and encouraged me. She was my comfort, joy, and confidante.

She was sexy and affectionate, always an active participant, and gratifying with her charms. In love, we had an insatiable physical desire for each other, and gave ownership of our bodies to one another. We were always delightfully pleased to our continuous pleasure, as we were voracious lovers.

We were kids when we first met. We were both twenty-one years old. She dug my motorcycle, and asked for a ride. I admired her ass, and asked for a ride of my own. She excitedly accepted, and we embarked on a journey of incredibly boundless love and fervently passionate sex.

There was no room for indifference between us because ours was not a typical relationship. There was no courtship, or dating, to romantically draw the condition of love. Sexual desire was not a manifestation of love. We had super high charged sex power right from the beginning of our first ride together.

That first ride had all the makings of being at least a spectacular one night stand. Before we left the parking lot, I had a promissory blowjob coming pending the outcome of a bet. Within fifteen miles we were holed up in a roadside motel, and just a few short miles prior to that, we had been in a sex shop parking lot where Bunny stuffed Ben Wa balls into herself.

Within minutes behind the door at the motel we were wrapped in orgasmic bliss before even knowing each others names. By morning we knew each other. We knew all the feelings and emotion contained within us were going to erupt like a champagne bottle with uncertain intensity. When it did, we knew that we had a choice to make; either clean up and part ways, or embrace one another and hold on for dear life.

We knew each other, but did not know about one another. We chose each other, and then our love for one another grew and blossomed out of the fertile ground of our insatiable appetite for the thrilling passions we shared in sex. It was like the dangerously explosive nitro additive to top fuel methane, and we had just the right volatile mixture of youth, naivety, courage, strength and hope to challenge the world and our humanity and make it work. The ensuing ride was worth a lot more than a roll of E tickets, and bound us together forever.

We were all in from the onset. She moved in the next day. We had to quickly learn about each other, our habits, likes and dislikes, and embrace it all with the same commitment and enthusiasm we had when bringing each other to orgasm, and adapt and change to accommodate one another. We approached our life together through the mundane, routine and extravagant, as if it were a romp in the sack, and gave it everything.

Our love grew as we pushed and encouraged helped each other through the challenges of life, work and education, but it really blossomed through sexual exploration. The toxic anxiety, fear, pain, anger, and insecurities produced in each of us, as we stretched the boundaries of our desires to the outer limits, was neutralized by our love for one another. Just as the equally destructive temptation to abandon one another for pleasures found in new partners, was eradicated by our love, as we submitted to it and each other.

Our life together was akin to an action and porn hybrid film. We were always moving and in action. Our romance was the journey; it was within us. Interludes were direct and concise. Three simple words, whispered in her ear at any given time melt her heart and she became play dough. I too was subject to a simple key; her touch. An out stretched hand taking mine, an innocuous caress and I was owned by my Bunny.

How I do miss her...