It's the kinda feeling she leaves you with, even after eight months of silence. The thought of the things we did together, makes me abnormally hard. I used to call her the Tequila Queen, but now that I don't have those pictures she sent me, I don't know what to call her, other than Sunrise.
Never got a chance to hold her in my arms, or bring out my variaty of positions that I spent years of visualisation to perfect, but I still feel our hearts beat togerther, like mind fucking on the same page. I still know she likes being on top and that her favourite food is pasta, sushi and steak.
It was always the sex, it was a way of love and nobody told us otherwise, but ironicly I talk about her, yet she's no longer mine to do a little cunnilingus on, or fondle with and love. All this, but she knows...she's reading it and imagining the touch that no amount of top shelf pussy, can compare to the loving of a good woman.
-"This one is for you."
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