Never fade completely. But remind me of the torture of trust, the fool who gives over. The emptiness that follows desire. All of it written in stitche... across the scars and curves of fingerprints from homemade thread and sewn with the needles that were thrown at me. I say you must move on because the only way to live is for yourself. But the mirror doesn’t believe me. It remembers how he said he’d die for me and believes that there is another way. Still, it knows that he read my hands and. Feeling the texture of her skin. Allowing my fingertips to trace patterns on her calves and thighs. Never touching in an overt arousing way I gave her a full body massage. By the time I was finished she was flushed, her breath as ragged as she started to give in to her passion. I turned to increasing her passion. Kissing the back of her neck, my breath, hot on her skin. Caressing her shoulders as I ran my tongue down along her spine. Kissing and squeezing her buttocks. Licking the back of her. More

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