Missing Her

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My girlfriend Julie has been away for a week now. It still seems odd to me to talk about her as my ‘girlfriend.’ I’ve mentioned before that I have had lesbian experiences before, but this is the first real ‘girlfriend’ that I have had.

I miss her.

I missed her the first day she was away, and the second day, but now that it is day 7 I miss her painfully. That is how I felt when I lay in her bed. We both have a room, and mostly we sleep in my room, but tonight I sleep in her room. She has a smell which comes from her shampoo, an expensive one that only she uses because I am happy to use any type on my hair.

I smell her smell on her pillows, and I imagine the sheets on her bed touching her legs instead of mine as I move underneath the covers.

I wish she was here now. So that we could hold each other and I could feel the warmth of her body. The movement of her breathing – as I hold onto her like a small koala holding onto its mothers back. I am restless. I miss her. It is pain.

I often have sexual fantasies when I go to sleep. Strangely, they don’t wake me up or make me horny normally, but they are just comforting. I lay on my side usually in a semi-fetal position, with one hand underneath a pillow and one hand between my legs, allowing me to feel the warmth between my legs. It is a comforting feeling. Then my mind softly imagines.

The sex that I would imagine tonight could only be described as rough sex. It’s often the case that my sexual imaginings are quite rushed and violent, but wouldn’t want to have anything like that in real life. I imagine that Julie and me are together and that we are standing in a door way. What kind of doorway?

It’s dark, perhaps it has been raining, it is in a dark back lane, an alley way, and the street is clean as it is has just been washed by casino şirketleri the cleansing rain. Perhaps we are both a little drunk as we have just left the pub. We stand up and kiss.

Our arms hold each other, I love that. Holding each other is so comforting, and having our breasts press against each other is so nice. I sometimes feel that the only thing that makes sense about breasts is that they are made to caress other breasts as two girls stand opposite each other and kiss.

It is loving, comforting, beautiful, and this is not belittled by the fact that we are also horny. Being horny can sometimes be lust, a bit ugly really. But with Julie and me being horny is just love.

We kiss further, mouth to mouth, tongues licking our faces, laughing occasionally as we make silly groaning sounds. I bury my face into her shoulder and feel her waist, feeling the hardness of the jeans she is wearing, the hardness of the thick leather belt that surrounds her body, the body that I will be able to kiss and caress later when we are in bed.

Julie touches me as well, except I am wearing a thin cotton skirt, reckless I know as it is still cold. It is one of those Indian wrap-around ones, going down to my ankles, so she takes two hands to pull it up, almost as if she is making a bed.

I finally feel the warmth of her hands on my bottom, all the warmer because I am not wearing underwear, and warmer still because it is such a contrast to the coldness of the weather. I am sexually assertive. I lift one leg up and put it on an old plastic milk crate, and with my legs apart Julie starts to touch me there.

Her open hand caresses me warmly. A finger starts to feel around, starts to open the lips which are swollen but held together by my stickiness.

My deep visual fantasy is broken as I realize that casino firmaları none of this is real. What is real is that I am in bed, alone, having this fantasy. I masturbate myself, imagining Julie’s fingers. I move over on my back.

In bed I am wearing a nightdress and nothing else, and I have my legs apart, masturbating myself with two fingers. I am aroused. Very aroused.

In bed I sit up and cross my legs. I cover my body with the bedclothes up to my neck, and I masturbate properly, harder, hard enough to bring myself off.

I go back to the fantasy.

In the fantasy I see Julie removing a dildo from her bag. She pulls down her jeans and puts it on. It straps into place easily. She is good at this now, she has had lots of practice. She pulls her jeans back up, leaving the fly open, letting the dildo stick out like a real practice. As she does up her belt it is firmly in place, ready to make love to me.

I turn my back to her and lean over, sticking my bum out at her, putting my hands on top of the milk crate. She pulls up my skirt and lets it rest around my waist, so that my bottom is completed exposed. The cold air tells me that I am uncovered. She puts lubricant over the dildo, which I thought was pretty unnecessary in the circumstances.

In reality, I would only be able to feel what she would be doing now. I would be able to feel the head of the dildo make contact with the start of my lips, and then it would enter past the entrance. Once properly inside, even half an inch, she would be able to thrust with much greater force, opening me penetrating me, making love to me, fucking me.

But as this is fantasy, I imagine what she is doing. I see the dildo with glistening lubricant and then my juice. I see it probe in between my lips, seeing it move in and out, making love to güvenilir casino me through Julie and rhythmically thrusting as if in time to the heartbeat of all living beings.

In reality, I am still in Julie’s bed, with two fingers inside me, pressing in and up, feeling the tension in my pelvis rise. There comes a point in sexual excitement where it just happens, there is no making myself do anything, but I become increasingly less conscious, just doing stuff, but in reality bringing myself closer and closer to climax.

I smell Julie’s shampoo, I smell her smell, I see shadows, I see her wearing the dildo. I imagine that I am sucking it, her holding the back of my head making me submit, I see her fucking me hard.

Energy rises from my pelvis through my climax up to my throat, the moan being the route that my climax escapes from my body. I masturbate more, bring myself down after I bring myself off, bring my body and soul down to earth, after it has been up in the heavens.

The images that have been in my mind slowly become more black and white and the smells and feelings less intense. I feel that the energies have been somewhat wasted, because it is only me that has been here, and Julie is still away.

I feel that I must write a story about my masturbation, about the images I have had. About the time that Julie fucked me with a strap on in a back lane. And I feel my lust build again.

I imagine that three men were watching us while Julie fucked me in the back lane, while they masturbated themselves. I imagine that one of the men, perhaps all of them, held me still while Julie fucked me, perhaps even fucked me without my consent.

I imagine that as I am in Julie’s room in her bed that I am being watched, a small gathering of men getting off, watching and listening to me masturbate. Or perhaps a secret web-cam has caught me in action and broadcast it to the world?

I am horny, I have masturbated, I am still horny. But right now what I wish for is a cuddle with Julie. I really do. It is day 7 and I miss her painfully.

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