Laying in bed remembering how she tasted. The smell of her skin after a long day, it was a little salty but sweet.

She travelled a lot for work so I only got to see her couple times a month. But every time we kissed, I felt how much she missed me. I knew she adored me, and I loved her for that. Every time my lips touched hers, it was a reminder of how lucky I was to have her.

Caressing the side of my breast, I remembering how she felt and how she would slightly tickle me and yet turn me on. When she would kiss the side of my neck, it was as if she knew my secrets.

I Should have tried harder to make her know how much I cared about her. She was sweet, caring, unapologetic of who she was, and I didn’t appreciate it enough.

I closed my eyes and I just remember those mornings where she would wake me up between my legs, as she held onto them while gently sucking on my clit. The way she embraced me when I looked down at her, I knew that she really loved the way I tasted.

She and I, when we were having sex it felt like we were in a different world; lasting for hours. It felt as though our bodies merged into one and we could feel each other’s energy perfectly exchanging our flows. Our sweat would drip onto each other and neither of us cared, in fact, it made us more turned on, more in sync.

I wished I had let her in more, and to see all of me, but being hurt so many times, we let the good ones slip through the cracks of our painful past.

I don’t know why I feared her love, but I know that I missed it. I know that without her around, my days weren’t the same. She used to make me laugh all the time—her smile made my day.

I miss touching her hair, caressing her body. The lines on her skin showing the beauty of her age. She was older than me, and I liked that about her. She never made me feel that I was young. We were in sync, but I held back and I didn’t show her all of who I was, even when she did the opposite. I used to question why she was comfortable being so open about herself, especially on days when she wasn’t perfect. But now, I missed that quality about her. It’s part of what made her sexy.

God, she turned me on — I can feel how wet I am. My body misses her touch. I slide my finger inside me, remembering how she would feel. She was so free with her sexuality, and I’d never experienced that before. It made me safe but also it intimated me at the same time; perhaps I should have told her that.

Truthfully, there were a lot of things I should have told her, and though she was sweet with understanding, I could tell it bothered her. Even though I loved how open she was with me, my experiences just wouldn’t allow me to do the same for her.

As I’m touching myself, tears fall onto the bed after passing my cheeks. I was so stupid to have let her go so easily, but it was now too late. I shut her out so much that she just quietly went away, leaving me alone with all my reasons and justifications of why I couldn’t just let myself go. I was content with most things in my life, but I was alone, again.

As I cum hard, I let my juices run down onto the bed. She would always taste me again by sucking on the finger that was inside me; I also did the same with mine.

I turn on my side and cuddle my pillow, imagining it’s her skin next to mine. I hold it close to me with the last few tears escaping onto the pillow.

“I miss you.”