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So many minutes, hours, and days apart. So much time working almost to the point of forgetting who and what I am.
Trying hard to remember that final touch of your fingers on my breasts, making my heart race, making me want to take you deep inside.
Trying hard to remember the feel of your body against my own. The weight of you on me. Keeping me warm at the same time making me tremble as if the cold could find a way to touch me.
Trying hard to remember the feel of you moving inside me. My legs wrapping themselves around your waist keeping you from leaving me. Squeezing you gently with muscles I thought were gone.
The sound of your voice in my ear. The feel of your breathe touching me as gently as your hands have done.
The feel of your lips against mine. The lingering taste of you that will have to keep me satisfied until our work is done.
Selfish of me, I know this all too well. The real world having to be dealt with before it tries to crash in on us. Interrupting what we have waited so long to have.
I'm left to wonder if the real world has pushed its way between us, never to let us feel each other again?