“Pretty kitty,” he purred at me.
Added 2019-04-06 02:42:58 +0000 UTCWhen I saw this photo I remembered the way the thick carpet felt under my knees. We hadn’t been dating that long. I felt vulnerable all of a sudden, bare on the floor while he was still fully clothed. He felt it, he must have, because he started saying sweet soothing things from across the room while he focused his lens. “Pretty kitty,” he purred at me as he took this shot.
Later that afternoon was the first time I cried while we were fucking. It wasn’t that I was sad, just overwhelmed with so much emotion. A release. I was uncomfortable being so exposed in front of him, but he said all the right things. He comforted me. When he said it was okay, I believed him. (A habit I’d live to regret.)
The last time we fucked tears spilled down my face. I didn’t fight it. I just let him hold me. I cried and he cried and we said the same things over and over “I miss you.” “I love you.” A hundred times. We said each other’s names just to hear them on our tongues. Whispered in our ears, with little prayers that we’d remember what it sounded like, that we’d remember how it felt.
