I miss the sex least of all, even though it was amazing. The way you would reluctantly allow me to undress you. The look of your perfect body, tense with anticipation seconds before I took you. The way you would tentatively submit to my touch and let me caress you, tease you into position. The gasp that you try to stifle when I first touch you, that short, sharp breath that always seemed to precede a long exhausting night.
I miss the passion. It was everything physical lust should be; Uninhibited, uncompromising. It could be slow and sensual, but rarely was. This was real passion, hard to contain. It demanded attention. The feeling as we fell into rhythm, the small, quiet, satisfied sounds you would make, the way you would brace your body against mine with the sheets, or the arm of the couch, or the back of the chair…
I miss the desperate panting when you would come up for air, almost like you had forgotten to breathe. The silken sticky salty sheen on your skin, the taste and smell of sweat and sex surrounding you. As your heaving chest slowed, my hands would wander, exploring you, taking you in...
I miss slowly rolling you over, biting your ear, turning your head towards me as I kissed you hard from behind, pulling your body in close. We were never able to build the anticipation for round 2. Self control is something neither of us ever invested in too heavily. From there it would be even more brutal. All nails and teeth, panting and moaning. We’d change positions almost as fast as we could think them up, never satisfied, always craving more. From the front, from behind, legs every which way in a tangle of sex. Toys if we could reach, fingers if we couldn't. On things, under things, bent over things and your personal favourite(mine too, if I were being honest), pinned up against things .
Somehow this would continue, for hours, until we physically couldn't go on.
Sadly though, after all this the part I miss most was when it was over on the rare occasions time would allow us and we could lay there naked, bodies stuck together by the fruits of our labours, our breathing slowly returning to normal. Curled up into a ball so tight no-one could really tell us apart. The way you feel, the way you smell.
I will never forget it.
I know it couldn't continue forever, but you could have at least given me warning before you pulled it all out from under my feet…
