The soft skinned furry animals that we are. We are in bed together again after months of not, after exactly one year and eight months of not. We touch and we melt and we blend and we feel and we smell. My senses are afire, lit up. I know you. We’ve been lovers on and off in 3 or 4 rounds. I have lost count and we know, we both deeply know that we do not fit each other in a relationship, we’re too different and we don’t match.
But the chemistry, the pheromones, and the way we come together in our play is astounding. One of life’s great injustices that you can have such mind-blowing chemistry with someone, and yet be so ill suited for each other, a cruel, harsh irony on the part of our creator, the purpose of which escapes me. I feel your breath along my neck as you whisper, “My mistress, I missed you. I thought about kissing your ass, while I was fucking someone else. I never stopped thinking about you. I missed you my mistress.”
“I’m glad you think about me. I’m in you and I will always be in you,” I say. For a long moment I close my eyes and I ask you to love on me and you start immediately stroking my skin, lightly on my neck breathing into my hair and stroking my spine all the way down my back. I enjoy letting you touch me. You start to suckle my breasts and my body responds to your smell, to your touch, to your taste and I find it strangely pleasurable to be reminded of our tempestuous journey.