I will be fine for long stretches. Happy with my relationship with Mr. Jones, happy with everything, and then it hits me like a rogue wave out of nowhere — an intense, visceral twisting stab of longing. Longing so strong it sometimes leaves me out of breath or in tears or both.
I’ve had to stop myself many, many times from writing him and telling him about Mr. Jones, that I have permission now, so to speak. Why do I stop? Because if I do this, it will irrevocably damage my relationship. When Mr. Jones gave me a pass, he wanted to make things easier for me, but when I questioned him about it…it would tear him up inside, and I don’t want to do that to him. And my feelings for Terminator are not minor. Emotions would intensify and complicate things, so…no.
But sometime I am hit by a flashback — our last time, we’re panting, sweaty, fused together, his hot breath on my neck, his cock so deep inside it hurts, and the our eyes meet. That kiss. Jesus, that kiss. And I am destroyed.
Image: La Bacchante by Gustave Courbet [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons