A Letter to the Impossible

Sometimes without even trying, I can still remember the way your skin felt, the way your body smelled after the rush of me passed through you. And I know, regardless of the words you will never say that you think about me, even from time to time. Little things remind you of me. I know this. I know this from the way we still electrify each other with our mere presence, the sound of our voices in each other's ears, knowing our bodies are close enough to touch.

You are still at ease with me. I can sense it. More comfortable than I am with you when we are together. The infatuation between us is pulse racing and I am nervous others around us will see the effects you have on my body. I struggle so hard to keep my distance and even harder not to meet your stare when I feel your eyes on me from across a room.

In addition, I will admit that it's difficult for me to let my heart go and convince it that we will never be together. The ache my heart has for you is beyond reason. After all, our coupling would be immoral. It's still hard for me to believe that we would leave the bedroom long enough to be concerned about what was going on in the world around us.

Physically, we are undeniable. The charge of blood to the middle of my thighs every time you enter a room I am in is impossible to close the eyes to; and the throbbing lasts much longer. In fact, sometimes I think it is never going to go away. There have been times I can't help but take a hot bath and play with myself until I cum because I cannot get the consideration of you fucking me out of my mind.

Thinking of you is of course one thing. The fact that there are months and sometimes year spans between when we are with each other for even a couple days makes the anticipation much worse and for that matter, the departure which seems earth shaking to me. There has never been a single goodbye between us that hasn't ended with tears of hopelessness and deep shame stinging my eyes. Before I even leave you I wonder when we will see each other again. It is hours down the highway and handfuls of songs on the radio until I think of anyone or anything but you. Fuck, it is amazingly pitiful.

You didn't know I felt this way, did you? Did you think I convinced myself our times together were a mistake better off forgotten? You are wrong... so wrong. Right now I am wondering if you are going to know what to do after you read this. With you, with me... with us. Of course, you know there will never be an "us" as well as I do – maybe better.

And perhaps I am wrong, you don't ever think of me. Maybe you just want to forget the way my hands, tongue, tits felt on your body. Maybe you have forgotten how I touched you like no one ever had... What I really want to know is you share these feelings and you can't wait to have a chance alone with me. How you would touch me back... kiss me... how we wouldn't have to worry about not looking into each other's eyes or who was watching.

Maybe next time...