is me is really me

the medication that i’ve been prescribed between chemo treatments usually leaves me with nausea (though much less than if i didn’t take it) but last night it seemed to bring about dreams that were fueled by memories of me and him. together. in one of those rare moments we’ve had over the course of the last two years.

that first kiss when i realized without a doubt i had not only crossed the line i swore i would never cross, i had pole vaulted over it. or the way the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my nipples went erect when he walked into the conference and i hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet.

or the delicious way his blush reached all the way up to his cerulean blue eyes and my panties went wet. or the raspberries he brought unexpectedly when i was alone in nyc and he found the time to cross the bridge to welcome me to his side of the continent. or meeting at my favorite bistro on the one day our travel schedules aligned whilst we were in france. enjoying a meal before strolling along the city. and the moment at the chalet his past fall, when i had orgasm after orgasm after orgasm and he held me as my body lay spent, trembling from pleasure i had only ever read about in erotic novels.

the way my flesh in his hands responds of their own accord and the way he renders me speechless with the simple flick of his tongue on so many parts of my body. his skin against mine and his weight upon me. the salty taste of his skin or better yet, the taste of myself on his tongue as his mouth recaptures mine.

dreaming of him leaves me spent and aching for his taste, his touch, his scent, him.