Missing

He twitches sometimes when he comes inside me. It's not the face he makes; a lot of the time he's behind me and I don't get to see any silly face he might be making. It's not any noises he might make either; he's fairly quiet. But there's a twitch right before his cock spurts cum into me that I can't get enough of.

Not always. But sometimes. And it's sometimes enough to make me cum too. I remember hearing a sex therapist saying that she thought it was silly for partners to cum together, because it meant that they'd miss the moment of their partner's climax. Which is valid, I suppose; there is something magical about making someone cum and watching them. But there's also something magical about falling off the cliff at the same time.

He empties himself into me. It's not about the amount of semen; let's face it, biologically, the male animal doesn't make as much as I'd like, ideally. Sure, there are probably "freaks of nature" who cum buckets, but when I talk about cumming buckets, it's hyperbole. And I don't care. When he cums inside me, it's not about volume, it's about how he seems to flow into me, like we become one for just a moment. It's the most intimate thing you can share, I think. It's not always intimate, but when it is, it's the most intimate.

My cunt is like my heart; it's big enough for more than one person (no, that's not a dirty joke; I couldn't do DP in my pussy or anything like that). There's a space inside me which is filled by all the men I love, and when I don't have them inside me, that space feels empty, like my heart does when I miss them. I like penetration, but it's more than that. Being penetrated by certain people is a different ballgame.

Right now, I miss Mike. But I miss Dad too, miss him whole and healthy. I miss a lot of people. And I know that there are some of them who will never be back. The ache dulls, but it never goes away. That's not a sad thing. How else can I remember what I once had?