I lie awake in bed tonight and slowly run my fingertips back and forth across my erect nipple. I feel my desire deepen. I wish your lips were wrapped around it, sucking gently, then more urgently. I long for your hands on my breasts, firmly massaging them. I wish you would bury your face between my breasts again and say you’d happily die from being suffocated by my breasts and something about what it would say on your tombstone.

My breasts ache for you, your mouth and hands, even resting your head on them as a pillow. They are so large, so lonely, waiting for the touch that is not my own to awaken my desire, my whole body.

I wonder if you remember and think about my breasts. Do you also long to take my nipples in your mouth and create a connection that pulls at my heartstrings and lights a fire between my legs? I am unable to stop myself from moaning in pleasure and gasping at how good your mouth on my breasts feels. I crave it still, so often. Not just any mouth, yours.

You had a way of touching me that was just right. Our bodies fit together in a way where I had never felt so held. You touched me in exactly the right way at exactly the right time and let my desire build so slowly and authentically. My heart aches to feel this again. I pray all the time for someone like you.