Her words matter. What she says to me. What she writes to me. Yes, all of that feeds my fascination.
But sometimes it’s her other sounds that captivate me.
In the middle of the night, I slip my arm around her, and she makes the softest coo.
I kiss her neck at the edge of the forest, my fingers teased just beneath the waistband of her shorts, and she gasps quietly, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth open and hungry.
She whimpers with my face between her legs. An impatient, greedy, sexy pleading.
She shudders and her breath hitches as she climaxes. Cum for me, baby.
She laughs on the phone. I am ten, or a hundred, or a thousand miles away, and I know that I’ve touched her, made her smile, made her better for just a little while.
It’s not enough to see her. I have to hear her.
~myhandsinherhair