I don’t know about you but I have this false sense that I can always be in touch with my lovers.  Part of it is the mindless gratitude of a guy who spends much of his time with himself.  Most of it is being mindful of what she shares with me or teaches me.

    The last time I saw Emmy she popped her nipple out for me to taste.  (I’ll disguise her name as “Emmy” so no one knows whom I’m talking about).  We kissed and removed our clothes as before.  And like the last time, she silently got on her elbows and knees as I caressed her flesh and put my lips to her rim.  I tasted her.  Pussy.  Ass.  Until she said she felt guilty from all the attention.

I lay down and she went to work.  A sweet little blowjob with a sweet little scowl on her brow.  Emmy biting on my nipples and experimenting with me biting hers.  Her gasp, asking for another.  Straddling my leg as she unfurled a condom.  Using my belt to thwack my thighs.  Using her nails to dig in deep--  really deep.  I thought she was using a metal comb on me.

Again and again touching places that don’t normally get touched.
Not on me at any rate.

Remembering me from re-reading my comments or from her sharp memory.  Rediscovering me and commenting on how far I’ve come along.

She bit my nipple until she calmly said, “I taste blood!”
Then she started on the other one.

After I came and we swoodled around a bit, I got up to tinkle and saw a drop of blood on the sheet.  I looked at my throbbing nipple as I walked into the bathroom.  I couldn’t see a wound.

I said, “Either you drew blood or one of us is a virgin.”

She called from the bed, “Well, it’s not me!”

I had to wait until I stopped laughing so I wouldn’t pee on the floor.

From the bathroom I wondered what her smirk looked like.  The grin will have moved on before I could wash my hands and get back to her.  She is such a gas!  I was only in the next room and I ached for her.  A sweet crush.  Delicious!

Let me put this in perspective.  I’ll remember great sex until I die.  I’ll remember someone who can make me laugh in the afterlife.  

Either way I’m coming out on top here.

I hold quite a slice of hope that I’ll meet again with my lovers.  Unfounded hope.
In one world or another.
Particularly the smart, funny ones.
Particularly Emmy.