Fiction: A long-lost love

You step forward and turn me around in your arms. You look into my eyes and gently lean forward for a kiss. I melt. Into your arms. I return your kiss, gentle at first, more passionate and insistent later. My toes curl in anticipation of what pleasures you’ll give. A soft sigh escapes me, as I wish this moment would never end.

Finally, you break the kiss, look into my eyes and say, “I love you di!” I can hardly breathe. Wasn’t this what I’ve waited for all these years?

You lean back in for another kiss and this time, it’s more demanding, more insistent. I return your kisses with a passion I did not know I was capable of. I acknowledge, after years, the depth my own desire for you.

You push me against the wall and gently caress my hips. I offer myself up to you almost instinctively, like I know how my body fits into yours. You take me in your arms and ask, “Can we go to the bed please?” Before I can respond, you’ve swept me away to the bed we shared so many years ago. The bed I could never bring myself to share with anyone else in the years you were away

You reclaim what’s rightfully yours. The bed. My body. Every inch of my skin that yearns for your touch. And how? With an aggression I haven’t felt in all those years we were together.

You make love to me like it’s the last time you’ll ever touch me, like the proverbial drowning man clutching at straws. Your fingers, oh those beautiful fingers…trace the curves of my hips that you so love.

After all these years, I feel alive again. I feel beautiful again. You hold my hips and bring me close, pause a second, as if to give me a final chance to say no, and then take me. Now, I feel whole again. After all these years.

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