Laying next to her, soaking in her smell and her smooth softness. Kissing her face and her chin and her nose. Feeling the fat, sticky member pressed between us — still wet from being inside her. My arms wrapped strongly around her, binding her to me. Legs still sweaty and intertwined. The throbbing desire to be buried within her, to still feel the hard meat moving in her soft, hot wetness. To still be connected to her power. All that beating and crashing inside my chest but being held in check by her calm, cool control.
And then she turns her face away just a little. And at that moment, I know. She’s through. She’s moved on. She’s done with me.
But I will always be right there, waiting for her to return.