She had a shitty boyfriend, and probably a drug problem. I loved her anyways.
She looked almost like my twin, and fucking her was like masterbating. Every curve. Every taste. Was as if I was tasting and touching an extension of myself.
Her deep raspy sighs from her lungs that still smoked American spirits (of course). Her long legs that often sported doc Martins, trying so hard not to suffocate the giver of the pleasure she received.
I tried so hard to to come up for air. I wanted to live there.
A magical night I’ve yet to come close to with anyone else.
I can still remember her sweet breath on my neck after I petted her head to sleep after.
I miss her.