My chest hurts. This doesn’t feel right. You better go be the best fucking husband and father that anyone has ever had. We are sacrificing something rare and special for the hope that you and your family are stronger and happier with me gone. You better make every baseball game and stay up late for every science fair project and never, ever forget to buy her roses on her birthday. I will never forgive you for throwing this away if you fuck that up anyway.
The world is dark and in slow motion today. Time drags. I don’t have the energy to cry. I sat in the tub for about two more hours after we got off the phone yesterday. After I finally said I love you for the first time, and goodbye. Then I ran my fingers through my hair and over my skin everywhere pretending they were yours. I keep wondering what little pieces of me you might remember, and wonder with pain how much you can’t remember anymore. Which memories have you needed so many times that they’re more fantasy than memory now? And which fleeting moments burned so brightly that you will never be able to forget, even if you try? What did you want me to do to you that you were too shy to ask for? What parts of me can you still feel and taste when you close your eyes? How many hundreds, thousands of times will you touch yourself and pray that touch was mine? How many days will we be doing that at the same time by chance, together, 3000 miles away?
I’m always thinking of you in that moment, that overwhelming split second when my body is too much to handle. When whatever person or hands or shower head I’m with disappears and everything is warm and dark and I have to scream but I don’t exist. And on the other side of that peak is just emptiness, because you aren’t there. I won’t feel your sweat bead on my chest when I finally force my body to breathe in. I can’t run my fingers through your hair and dig my fingernails into your back while I involuntarily tighten around every part of you that’s inside of me. There’s no bottle of bourbon that has helped me forget that sweet, salty, warm taste on my lips — the slightly sticky cocktail of us, completely disarmed and intertwined.
I still taste you when I dream. You’re grinning at me, shy and scared, and thirsty. You hold your hand up to my cheek while you wonder if I’m real before you pull my hair back, pull me in, and kiss me like the world is ending. And then you bury your head in my neck to try and hide quiet tears while I hold you and whisper that it’s okay. You slip your hands under my shirt and grab, hold every part of me you can reach. You hold tightly, giving me one long, last moment to tell you no, we can’t do this, I won’t let you in. But I’m not feeling that generous this time. I don’t say anything, I just tug lightly on your belt to give you permission. And then you’re pulling everything between us away. Our clothes are gone, you rip off my necklace and underwear and hold my arms down while your lips keep my head pressed back so I can’t move, can’t see, can’t fight while you pry my legs open with your knees and penetrate me so deep, so suddenly that I scream. You keep pressing in, deeper, over and over, needing more of me than I can give. Your hand covers my mouth, I almost can’t breathe. I can only focused on the feeling of you inside of me. But then, you make a mistake. You get a little too close. You almost lose control, your hands can’t hold mine back anymore. I push you off, over, and down before you can stop shaking and now I’m the one in control, my hands locked in yours, pushing you back while I ride you slowly, then faster until you’re begging me to stop. But I just watch you beg, as you try to form words between sharp breaths. I study your muscles tensing and releasing, keeping careful rhythm, getting you as painfully close as I can manage while I’m that close myself. I have to force myself to relax, not be so tight, not give in to my own weakness so I don’t bring you over too soon. I have to stay in control of you. But I can’t, I’m weaker than you are and I do lose control, my body seizing in waves while you don’t stop using me, your hands pulling my head into your chest and I pass out listening to the sound of your heart racing and us both quietly crying out for mercy from this terrible, intoxicating thing our bodies make us do to each other.
And then I wake up, and wonder if you ever dream like that about me.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/ag4qyc/i_love_you_and_goodbye_mf
OH MY GOD! I have tears in my eyes. Thank you, that was WONDERFUL. I can’t help but feel that such tenderness, passion, longing, and despair … this is a true story, isn’t it.