I could talk about our love, our need, for each other, how we desire a life together, but we said we’re putting that aside to gain clarity.

So here’s what I have left: a hard cock.

An erection that’s been throbbing for you for years. That cums for you a lot.

Right now, it’s hard because it needs to fuck you.

Right now, I need to find you - to meet you, somewhere: that car park, the gardens by the river, where you work - I don’t care where - just somewhere, where I can kiss you before you even say hello, where my hand is under your clothes before I let you take a breath. And when I do, it’s only so I can tell you what I’m going to do with you. And I know you want it too - your hand is already unzipping me, discovering me without underwear just as I discover the same with you. You’re already wet for me. You always are so wet for me - and that first push of a finger through your outer lips into that incredible heat and wetness - makes me throb again. You feel it, because you’re stroking me now - firm, long strokes, building speed and pressure. And you can’t take your eyes from where the purple head of my cock disappears into your palm. Until I push two fingers inside you - then you’re looking at me. When you utter just one word “more”, you kiss me with your tongue and lips and entire head pushing into mine and I go insane. Four, maybe five fingers in your soaking wet cunt -at least one of them yours, moving independently, pushing, stretching, scratching, making you pulse for something else, banishing all thought except to be fucked by me.

But not yet. First, I want you to cum on my tongue. You have to let go of my cock - we’re both reluctant, but when you realise my wicked smile is going to eat you up, you lie back and spread your legs so wide. For me. God, you’re so open for me - your punished pussy open for my mouth, eager for my tongue, which I give, slowly, up and down. Then push in. Then up and circle your clit. Then as your hands hold your legs wide, mine hold your lips and I’m fucking you with my tongue, jabbing it in and out, changing the pace, infuriating you with my inconsistent rhythm yet still edging you higher. When my fingers mash your clit, you’re not sure if it’s pain or pleasure but you don’t care, only for whatever is going to make you cum. When I write our names with my tongue across your wet pussy, I can tell you’re close - one of your hands releases your leg and joins my tongue between your legs. With a steady, almost tender touch, I focus on a motion that fires off all over your body and my arms now wrap around you to hold you close. Not because you want to leave my lips, but because I know when you cum, you’re going to jerk around and I don’t want my mouth to leave your body for a second.

And then you grunt - and your face looks down at me in desperation and you get out a few words but I can’t tell what they are because your thighs are crushing my head but I fucking love it and you know and you cum on me and for me and fucking hell this is the greatest moment that never lasts long enough and I think you’re babbling my name and asking me to fuck you.

But not yet. Next, I want to feel your lips surrounding my length, your tongue flicking the tip of my cock, taking me to the edge a hundred times and not quite taking me over - you know my limits better than I do and your talented mouth works up and down and around and around my cock, until every inch is wet with your saliva. One hand squeezes my balls whilst the other moves me up and down your mouth, increasing in tempo now, going deeper and deeper into your mouth and you know if you don’t stop I’m going to cum and I know you don’t care and you want it and you want to make a huge mess with me but I need to fuck you.