Good stuff I need to remind myself of when I think too much. 

I didn’t hear him in the bathroom until he was opening the shower door. I wasn’t poised or posed or polished. He stepped over to me and I pulled his neck down until his lips touched mine. My mouth already open and eager for his tongue. He growled and turned me around. The sadist in him called to the masochist in me as his cock shoved into my ass. Balancing on my toes I tilt my hips and answer him. 
He brings over a coffee cup to leave at the house. He tells me I can use his cup when he’s not here. I want to make his coffee in the morning while he bites my shoulder. He brings over a toothbrush to leave here. 
He wakes me up in the middle of the night with the promise of pancakes. We talk of this and that but his watchful eye catches me wiggle around in the booth. I can tell he’s having fun as he stands in the parking lot and watches me struggle to have the orgasm he commands. 
We nap the afternoon away tangled in sheets and sweat. He quietly says “be the big spoon”. I know I’m going to press my belly and breast against his back. He’s going to feel every extra pound and missing body part. It’s going to be glaringly obvious. He’s taken my shirt off, seen everything that is there and everything that is missing. I press my body against his. He reaches back and grips my thigh before drifting off to sleep. 
He sits on the bench in the shower. I know what coming down feels like, I know what a sudden endorphin drain feels like, but we haven’t played hard and I don’t know where this is coming from. “I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me, Kitten”. So I tell him I’m scared and he washes my back. 
He’s listening intently as the Youngest is talking about school and band and boys. He talks about me to her as if I’m not there with phrases like “your mother” and “this one here”. He herds the kids to Lowe’s and holds my hand in public. He stands behind me and nuzzles my neck, not caring who sees. He touches me. He touches me without thinking. He touches me. He listens to my girls. He touches me. 

He rearranges the cushions on the couch so we can lay together. He shows me one of his favorite movies and we cuddle. His fingers find my skin under my shirt. I keep expecting him to get hard and grab my hip. He doesn’t. We settle down and he chuckles in my ear. He whispers that he must leave soon. 
I want him to come back. 


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