A growing, climbing, urgent need to touch your skin, taste the salt-slick-sweat of it, feel you within. A pulsing orb of dark velvet heat washes over my body, an insistent beat.
Soothed only slightly by lone fingers deft, that nestle into the needy cleft,
Back arching, a low moan slips from otherwise silently gasping lips.
The mind's eye fills the empty space with that lean lithe body, its rangy grace.
The scent of sex fills the head, the spare hand clutches the side of the bed,
The orb of fire swells and grows beneath the touch and suddenly it's all too much.
Behind my eyelids your face flashes, over my body a tsunami crashes,
Ruthless, tormenting, only relenting when the waves subside.
The fiery waves and phantom feeling of you inside disappear, replaced by a smooth, still ocean that misses you more quietly.
But for how long can an ocean remain calm?
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For everyone who's ever been in a long distance relationship with someone that is worth every minute.
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