bed on fire
"Making love was never about you and me in bed. We made love whenever we held hands."
Still an entry in your chapter. Maybe I'll send you a link to my blog. Right at the beginning of your chapter. No, no contact for another month or so. I'm hoping I will be over you by then this will all be settled in my mind.
Do you remember our first time?
I never did tell you that you were my first for a lot of things. It may be because I was a little ashamed, slightly embarrassed and it'd make me certainly more vulnerable than I already was. I never dated or loved somebody before…I was always high on drugs. I never had sex with anyone, sober. I was always on something, pills, meth , ecstasy mushrooms but never sober. Maybe it's just a sad confession to actually admit to and say out loud. I am 40 years old and have so much trauma that I'm still trying to deal with that I've refused to allow myself to be vulnerable. Less feeling, easier to walk away when things don't work out, and things don't work out often.
I remember laying in your bed. We were making out and you kept telling me how beautiful I was, how sexy I was. And I was soaking up every single compliment, it was difficult to accept. I never had anyone tell me I was beautiful or sexy to desire me the way you did was overwhelming. It was so heated you were pulling off my fishnets trying to get into my pants so quickly. And I'm getting wet just thinking about it.
And I wanted to be in control, in my past, that was never allowed, Butch girls were always in control and rarely allowed me to touch them. I looked at you, straddling your thigh on top.
“Do you want me to?”
No hesitation in your voice, you pulled your pants off so quickly and you weren't nervous at all, certainly not shy. Started kissing your lips while rubbing your clit so softly slowly putting one finger into your pussy, you arched back and said,
“oh my God it's been so long and you feel so good.”
Oh a confidence boost, thanks for the support! I'm thinking. Well, good, then Christ, we are both practically virgins.
I'll never forget that look on your face when I was laying in your arms, angelic and I just went for it. You lift your hand Palm to your fingers you put it on your pussy and rubbed yourself hard and fast and I watched my mouth wide open. Sort of one of my weird fantasies I've always had, yet no one I'd been with had felt comfortable doing it, let alone in front of me.
You put your fingers inside of yourself. My wet pussy was rubbing on your thigh as you begged me to kiss you. You arched into me, breathing so heavily.
Oh my god!! It was like suddenly our energy was on the next tier on some pole we stepped into the passionate side of heaven.
I remember making your bed wet so wet I was a little embarrassed. You were such a giver and we climax so many times I've lost count that night. I told myself to memorize everything that happened that night because it was so wild. I don't do this on the first date. But here we are it was so hot and so fucking beautiful.
The best thing is it happened every night, our energy, our passion and the need for each other. In your bed. Every night we were there and each moment just us, no one else, all these intense, new emotions, I couldn't even sort out in my mind. Craving you all of the time. So much I discovered every day in your bed.
And you are probably in that bed now. Are you sleeping? Do you ever think about those passionate nights? Or me laying in your arms, cuddling with you, rubbing your head until you fall asleep?
Is your bet on fire? Do you feel it?
Are you alone and missing me? Do you miss my body, the smell of me and my smile? Do you miss staring into my blue eyes IN complete silence, just holding each other?
It's been so long, I'm missing your beautiful face, your smile and contagious laugh. I miss showering with you at night, talking to you about your day. I miss everything I loved about you and I loved everything about you so yeah it's a lot. And the only way I can get through my days is believing that sometimes you think about me. That you replay our memories in your head, that when you lay in your bed late at night touching yourself it's me that you imagine. Maybe sometimes you are missing me too.
And just maybe I'll read this letter and I'll miss the old me too.
Still trying to get over you.
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