The Second Chapter

Lingerie- June 13, 2019

This morning, I touched myself to the thought of you.

I remembered the wicked way your tongue used to move on me, how your fingers used to curl on just the right spots, and came to memory of you whispering "cum for me" in my ear.

After the moment ended and the images of you knelt before me, under me, or looking up at me from between my legs faded, I got up and put the toys I had used away.

I had wondered a week ago, when I was aggressively horny and without any means of release, if I'd ever be able to use the toys you bought for us on myself again, or wear the lingerie we had bought for anyone but you. If, god forbid, this is the end of us, would I ever be able to use the toys with someone else eventually. Or, if every time I pulled them out, would they just remind me of a better time, someone better, someone I wanted more than the person I was with in that moment?

This morning I proved to myself that I'd at least be able to use them on my own. But truly, I wasn't completely alone. Because thoughts and memories of you swarmed and filled my head and they were the only reasons I came. I still came for you, as pathetic as that might sound. But I will never be able to wear my purple Victoria's Secret lingerie for anybody but you.

I remember the first night I put it on for you like it was yesterday. The desperation in your eyes as your hands untied my satin robe and found me completely naked beneath, covered only by a frothy, see through lace that left nothing to the imagination. I remember the way your hands roamed my body, touching everywhere but the place I needed you most until I was writhing and begging you for more. The way you yanked me to the end of the bed and towered over me was unlike anything I'd seen before. With the TV light illuminating your strong back and shoulders, I thought I might come in seconds.

But you wouldn't let me. Not until you said I could.

Soon enough, my legs were spread wide, welcoming you home, and we fell into place for the hundredth time, the millionth time, two puzzle pieces finally joining at last.

What I remember most fondly about that night, what I can't stop thinking about, was the way you looked above me, what you said as our bodies moved. Your hands stayed on my hips, your grip relentless, but your eyes couldn't seem to pick one spot to look at- they darted from breasts to my legs to the place where we were joining over and over again. They fell to my lips and my neck until eventually you were looking me in the eyes, the whole time whispering how beautiful I was, "so fucking beautiful", as if you were in awe of me, as if there would never come a time when you'd had enough of me.

Every time I look at that lingerie, even think about it, that night and those memories come crashing back into my mind. The way we collapsed together, the way your voice sounded in my ear- rough and satisfied, your accent thicker and sexier than it's ever sounded before- as you told me that was some of your personal favorite sex that we had had to date. The smile that graced your lips as I joked about how happy I had come up with that game on the spot that had led to the purchasing of this lingerie. Your hearty laugh when I said we should play it again sometime.

That lingerie isn't just lingerie to me now. It's a living memory, and there will never come a time that I will be able to put it on without thinking about you. There will never come a time that I will be able to throw that robe on and walk around without remembering the times I tugged it on slowly over my naked body, exhausted from the sex we had just had, and grabbed your hand as we made our way to the bathroom to brush our teeth. Every inch of that fabric holds a memory of us- happy us, content us. In love us.

So I will never be able to put it on for another man. I will never be able to waltz out In it without remember the way I used to tease you in it. I will never be able to look down into another man's eyes while wearing it without seeing your eyes staring back at me.

Truth be told, I never want to. I never want to wear lingerie or tease another man. I never want to send nudes or share my body with another man. I never want another pair of hands but yours to learn my body. Never.

And I'm terrified that I might have to.

I'm terrified that you will never come back, and you will store your memories of me and my body in some distant corner of your mind, never to be recalled again.

I'm terrified that I'll have to find another man, not because I want to, but because there's no future for us and I have to.

I'm terrified that I will never find someone as equally excited to be kinky with me as you were. That I'll never find someone so open and accepting and nonjudgmental of all of the nonvanilla things I want to try.

I'm terrified that I will never find someone as perfect as you. In every way. As strong, as big, as aggressive, as willing to try new things, as incredible at fucking me as you.

I am so terrified.

And I have a gut feeling that with all of this terror comes an inclination to avoid finding out altogether.

Which won't be a hard habit to fall into, because it's you. It's always been you. From the first day I met you, to the last day, it's been you. I remember I asked you once about how it felt knowing that you were both the first and the last man to ever have me or know my body so intimately and you said something along the lines of, "fucking good. And no one will ever know your body like I do. No one's ever gonna see it. Because you're mine. Always." And you pulled me in for a passionate kiss and in those blissful seconds, I knew that I was only ever going to want you. And I told you as much.

I meant it, wholeheartedly, when I told you that you were it for me. In every way imaginable. You know me, which means that you know I never say things I don't mean- every word is calculated and carefully considered. I've talked about how you hold my heart in the palm of your hand, and I meant it, but in this too, I am still yours. When I said my body was yours, I meant it. I have self-worth and respect and obviously it's mine outside of the bedroom to do whatever the hell I want with, but in the bedroom? In any intimate setting? It's still yours. And honestly, I can't fathom a time it won't be.

Because I meant it, with every fiber of my being when I said I was yours, in every way, forever.