His...
His hands.
The fingers that tap his chin when he thinks, the tools I envision could be used in many different ways.
His hips.
The way I can imagine my legs wrapped around while he thrusts. And thrusts.
His arms.
The way they are bulky enough to hold me up above his shoulders as he eats me your like I am the last dinner before execution.
But alas, it is all my Imagination.
All My Fault
I love you. And I'm sorry I hurt you. You were the only good thing that has ever happened to me. Every time I hear your name the only thing I can think of is your lips on my skin when we sat watching movies. And your smile when you looked at me. My heart continues to break every time I hear of you being gone. I wish things were different. I deserve the things you said to me when I broke it off with you. In all honesty, I screwed up. My fault. All my fault.