Missing breakfast

[Listen to the podcast here]

I awakened missing his scent filling my nose, missing the feel of his skin under my fingertips. I miss the sounds he makes and the way his body moves under my hands. I love the way he softens when he's been with me a while, the way the social armour starts showing more and more gaps until eventually he sheds it and the only thing standing between us is our skin. I love the way he is a sponge, soaking up the love that radiates from me, from every pore, and that leaks from me, sometimes in the form of tears, but more often as wetness. My love is warm and slippery, and when he is near it escapes me. When he is near I feel myself swelling like a ripe fruit whose skin can no longer contain its juices. I want him to put his mouth to those places where my skin is split and leaking, and suck me dry. In my dreams he bites into me like I am a piece of fruit and I squirt, my juices filling his mouth and drenching his face. I miss the love we share between us, the love that grows and glows and makes me ache so sweetly, makes me ache the way my mouth does before that first taste of him in the morning, breaking my fast.

[Edit: I uploaded the audio for this and fixed the RSS feed for the podcast]