*****

He needs this as much as I do.

Probably more, but his needs are more psychological than physical. Mine just out of need of release. Of course I may...not need to over analyze this.

His hands are warmed and sweet and I'm a bit sadden cause I think of what if he's not here later and he wont be able to rub my in those special places anymore. And I want him. Need him. Have him. Allowing our legs to intertwine, I allow him to explore, and its as if he appreciates me. Something new and different every time.

So different than cold clammy not too smooth hands. And his tastes are not in the least bit foul, a mix of coffee, sugar, hamburger, and some syrupy fruity drink. And I like the way his tongue fills my mouth and feels in my mouth, it's soft and makes me quiver in the wrong places. Can't help but wonder if I make him feel the same way. Doesn't matter...cause we are in bed now and I have him all to myself.

His hands are so assured now, knows where to touch, how hard to touch....how soft to touch and I get goose bumps a lot of the times in places where goose bumps just should not be.

He's so warm beneath me, then on top of me, then at my back and switching is so much fun and I realize how tasty he really is, his skin, different, softer even and it's hard to not lick and then to stop licking and sucking and biting. And he's purple in that spot, but not in the least crying to stop and I crave. In. Him.

Because its at that point that I know him and like him a lot (maybe even love), when he's warm and snug around me and his face is buried in my neck and I feel so hot *inside*. And its at moments like these when friction was the best *fucking* invention of the universe, causing waves of...niceness throughout.

And its so hard to make sure I don't hurt him cause all there is now is HIM and the way he feels with me. God and the way he will feel in me, cause his love stretches deep enough to send thunder and oooh fuck. He's slick inside and I don't even feel myself turned over, cause cloud number nine is my bed tonight, but I do feel his want and need and friction is so wonderful again.

Time spins and sweat glistens and colors are too bright and he's burying his face in my neck again. And yea...I love him. Just as much as he does me and that's a lot. Over and over and over again and I think, I must not loose control...but...so...easy and...there's....FUCK...slickness between and in and out. And nine is the number of sheep I count. Nine times nine and we sleep, me on top as it should be.

Finished