This morning...
I woke up, far too early. But not tired.
I just lay there, half-naked, half-awake – and my body was… restless.
Such a quiet pulling deep in my belly. That warm tingling between my legs, which feels like an invitation – but without words.
And then I felt him again.
His voice, even though he wasn't there.
His breath in my neck, even though everything was quiet.
His hands… everywhere my imagination knows no limits.
I only pushed the blanket back a little.
My f****rs were curious. My skin was soft.
And my head was only with him. With his gaze. His grip.
With the thought of how he takes me, as if he knows that today I only want:
To be led.
To be pressed.
Not tenderly. Not roughly. Just so… that I no longer want to resist.
I closed my eyes and was simply open.
Open to desire. To surrender. To this inner “Yes” that moans without saying it.
I would have written to him. But what should I say?
That I am wet now?
That I want to feel him pressing me slowly against the mattress?
That my body screams, but my mouth is silent because it is much nicer when the first sound comes only with the second thrust?
I’m still waiting.
Maybe he’ll read this someday.
Maybe he knows how soft I am in the mornings.
How easy to ruin.
How much I want to let go – into his desire.
His command.
His heat.
I’ll get dressed later. Maybe.
Now I’ll lie here for a short while.
With my imagination.
And the slight trace between my thighs that says:
He’s missing.
He’s missing… inside me.
4.0 
