I miss your touch

I miss your touch
I miss the random caress
as you walked by,
your palm in mine
while holding hands.

I miss the lightness of your fingertips
trailing down my arm,
the warmth of your body
when we sat side by side.

I miss the way your hand gripped
my bottom when you were playful,
your fingers in my hair
as you gazed into my eyes.

I miss your soft wet lips just touching
my quivering mouth,
your arm encircling my waist
as you pulled me close.

I miss you caressing my chest,
slipping inside the hem,
the hand-to-skin contact
sending shivers throughout.

I miss your hands' unpredictable journey,
each time somewhere new,
tantalizing me,
with where they would go next.

I miss your fingers inching up
through my chest hair,
the first nipple pinch
sending blood surging lower.

I miss our tongue tips touching,
generating sparks,
and your kisses
on my face, my neck, and ...

I miss the anticipation of your hand
finding my waistband
and the first dip of your finger
inside the elastic.

I miss the feeling of my belt loosening,
the zipper being pulled down,
your hand hovering,
teasing my brain.

I miss your fingers on my stomach
making all the fine hairs rise,
feeling myself grow
and push outward, upward.

I miss the first touch to
my hard manhood
as it aches and throbs.
Nothing else can feel the same.

I miss your lips upon my chest
moving lower,
your hands gripping me,
slowly stoking.

I miss it all.
There is no duplicate.
I miss it so much
and wish for it every day.