The words flow from my finger tips like the ash that blew from my Mount St. Helens. Never ending, a blur of passion and anger. I am captivated by the glow of my screen and the words echoing in my head.
He comes behind me and smells my neck as he slowly traces his tongue along it. This tickles, he knows that, but does it anyway. My taste is like ecstasy to him. I fight the urge to squirm away and laugh. Inwardly cursing my my life long affliction of being overly ticklish. The scent of his breathe fills my senses. God he smells exactly the way he did when I kissed him on our wedding day. That smell has rarely made its appearance since. But I cherish the times he smells like this. It instantly sends me back to that day. The day I thought love would be easy. When I thought we would be together forever, never hurting each other. Oh but we have hurt each other, many times over the years. My mind is distracted by his scent and the memories that flood my brain. If I close my eyes, it’s our wedding night again. His lips seductively tracing my neck, his tongue flicking my ear lobe. He knows I hate this but he can’t help it and I want him to feel every bit of pleasure he can so I don’t pull away.