Gone

Photo by Quiver of Eros

Photo by ‘Quiver of Eros’

All the flirting, the teasing the innuendos, caresses, kisses, muttered words of exhortation or ecstasy. The single, studied fingertip that travels down from my throat to my pubic bone, pulling a trail of shivers in its wake. The change in the scent of his skin as he gets hard. The position he pulls me into, the leg that parts mine and holds them spread. The sharp, sweet pain of a tugged nipple. The first breathless plunge of penetration. The second, and the third.

All gone as I come.

But when I watch him with someone else, I remember everything.

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