I am so in love with her. She doesn’t even really know it - or then again, she probably does. We’ve been together for about eighteen blissful months, which is pretty long for me. I moved in at month two - fulfilling the punchline of every U-haulling joke I’d ever heard.

She shot me down earlier. I was kind of hoping for just a little - a little cuddling, a little affection, maybe a little sex…but she’s tired. She’s stressed out from work and she has to get up in the morning. Didn’t stop her from spending an hour straightening her hair, or watching TV upstairs, or doing her nails when she could have been doing me..

Hell, I would have been happy just to do her, without her returning the favor.  I miss running my tongue and lips over her soft skin, tracing the outline of the tattoo on her back with my fingernails. Her eyes are so beautiful, this mossy shade of hazel that reminds me of a forest in springtime. I know, I know, she has to work, she has to sleep, but I long for just one little kiss with some passion behind it - a little fire, just a spark! She says that once she gets me going I always ask for more, but that’s not true - I can take care of myself if I have to.

It wasn’t always this way - when we first starting seeing each other, the fire was there. We nearly tore each other’s clothes off on my balcony and in her car. I kissed her so hard she cut her tooth on her lip. We both walked funny for days. The first few months we got so little sleep that the dark circles under our eyes and our perm-grins became a running joke among our friends. I’d fall asleep tangled in her arms and legs, the bedclothes scattered here and there around the room.

Now I sit up late, frustrated, reading about others’ adventures and honing my imagination.

Original post by sexykitten