Holding your midsection and pressing you down. I miss your belly and lick it clean.

Every time I thrust I tell you

Your ass is fine. And it is mine.

So they are pushed into the mattress, and I grapple them, clumsily, oafishly, from behind. And I take every squeal I have earned.

Because I need them. You have no idea how much you save me, and I can only tell you by ignoring what you say, and putting it in your face.

It sucks, but things could be worse. You still love me. I pull harder on your hair than I ever did, and adore a nipple roughly, and thrust trying always to get deeper.

And remember the curve of your ass, and cry.

But I can feel you sucking. Just a bit. And maybe that is enough for now.