Hands, His

When you go through a breakup there are so many things that you go over in your mind that you may regret. Sometimes it’s the things we may say, sometimes it’s the things we may do and sometimes it’s the touches we miss. The touches that were not only sexual but also reassuring in the darkest of times. I’m not always able to say exactly how I feel but when he’d put his hands on my thigh or my waist, everything was always clear. I loved him, I loved him more than I thought I could love someone that wasn’t fully mine. Our relationship was never defined, nor was it in a box that could be picked off of a relationship shelf. When things got hard our excuse was that we are ‘us’ and that was the only explanation that was needed. I think as my love grew for him I began to see that ‘us’ wasn’t enough and I think I wanted to hear more things like we. We was moving forward, we wanted to plan a future, we wanted more kids, we wanted to have a plan for all the tomorrow’s. He blamed it on the fact that he grew up in the streets and was never able to learn how to just be with a woman, how to just be with me. So I went along with it, I went along with everything he said because he made it sound so good. He made us sound good even though it was far from. Even though I know that we shouldn’t be together I still sit here just missing him. Missing his touch. His hands would let me know how he feels and I miss the feelings, I miss knowing what was on his mind. Whether it was pinning me down while we would play fight or when he’d slip his hands up my skirt to find my sweet spot. The way he would wipe away my tears or the way he’d wrap his arms around me for reassurance. A break up can be a terrible thing but there is never an end for things that are meant to be. We needed to end, we needed to end because we wasn’t right but that doesn’t stop me from missing his touch, from missing his hands.

Early start.. 

 I gave him that look that he knows oh too well. At first he looked surprised, like how could I be feeling this way so early in the morning. We was all alone in our carriage on the train and I thought this is the perfect time to get in some early pleasure. He looked around and got up to stand in between my legs. I was getting more and more excited, he never responds to me like this in public. I looked up into his eyes and I saw that fire, the fire I see right before he’s going to have his way with me. He put his hand down the front of my leggings, past the thin material of my frenchies and started to finger me. I was so shocked and frightened that we would get caught but if felt so damn good. Through the quiet moans coming from my mouth I tried to plea for him to stop. I didn’t believe he would stop and I didn’t want him to either. My clit felt so sensitive, feeling him kiss me from my lips down to my neck and finally my exposed chest was making me feel overwhelmed. I felt that familiar build up and before I knew it I exploded. He smiled, kissed me and sat back in his seat to wait for me to compose myself. I looked over at him and he just looked so calm and collected. He stared back at me and placed the fingers he had in my sweet spot straight in his mouth and sucked my juices off.