I want you. I want you.
No, I need you.
I need you here in this room, in my bed, between the sheets that caress my own nakedness.
I need your sweat, your come, our libations to stain their lily whiteness, to leave that indelible and remarkable trace.
I need your cock, thick and hard and glistening, shining my lips, skidding across my tongue, sinking into the tightness, embraced by my velvet heat. I need your mouth, your lips, I need your kiss.
I need these walls to hear the deep timbre of your voice, your wanton words. I need these walls to record your sigh, your gasp, your groan. I need the bricks, the mortar to drink in your unique musk, your addictive scent. I need you soaked into the very fabric of this feminine space, onto my fair skin, into my aching flesh.
I need you. I need this. I need all of this and so much more. But more than anything, I need this place to remember, to release your essence once you’re gone. I need the reminders, these erotic and sultry mementos to relive our passion once I’m alone.