On our last night together, I looked up at him hopeful, because I thought we'd have forever.
And we could've.
All I had to do was say the words.
But they never came out.
We had discarded of our clothes in record time, and for the first time ever, I was completely n***d before him.
I had always felt self conscious of my body, even though his filthy mouth would always remind me in these moments that I was shaped perfectly, that I needed to start realising it for myself.
But it was easier said than done.
He lifted me by the hips slightly, and I supported my own weight on my knees so that he could slide the c****m down.
Then, with a whimper of his name, I lowered myself down onto him, wincing slightly, to which he used his large hands to stop my rocking movements.
"Are you okay?"
