We sat up, face to face, our legs draped around each other.
He touched every inch of me and watched my face as if studying my reactions.
He tickled my toes, caressed my calves, nibbled at the back of my neck.
In between each act, he would return to the well, to make sure I was satisfied, and to satisfy his ego.
I begged him to take me, needed to feel him from within.
I leaned back and pulled him towards me. He leaned forward, over me, but resisted.
He kissed my lips, held my face, and whispered, as though in angst: “Tell me, tell me.”
He wanted me to nurture his soul as he pleasured my body.
“You,” I said softly, looking into his eyes.
“There is only you. Come with me, my love. Come, with me.”