Jenny Love

Gradually, the sense of Jenny receding, life continuing as before. Then last night, waking in the early hours, seeing her exactly in my mind, the color of her hair, the shape of its cut, its sheen beneath my stroking hand, the contours of her nose, the curve of her neck.

Lying in bed alone, holding her. Kissing her soft lips. Tasting her mouth’s tastes, the exact specific combination of cleanliness plus a recently smoked cigarette, normally repellant, heavenly on her. Her body naked, close to mine. Her head on my shoulder, my lips kissing her hair, her nipples against my chest, her leg crossed over my pelvis, her pussy rubbing my thigh.

Falling back to sleep in bliss. Waking again. Jenny still at my side. Smiling together, kissing. She mounting me, using her hands to prepare her pussy. Her juices released and their soft suction sounds. Her hands guiding me in, working her hips.

Long minutes, hours of passion. Her perfect knowledge of my body, what to do, when to stop. Dismounting, wiping her and me with a tissue, nestling again at my side. Turning round, spooning, her hair soft on my face. Both turning, her breasts against my back, her lips on my neck. Breathing together. Heavy sleep calling us both.

Gently getting out of bed, going for a pee. Washing and drying my cock, a considerate lover. Jenny waiting, welcoming me back to the warm bed. Snuggling together. She moving down on my body, taking my cock in her mouth, licking its tip, playing. Coming back up, smiling at me, full of knowledge, kissing, settling again. Falling back to sleep together.

Waking in the morning, feeling like heaven. Closing my eyes, summoning Jenny. Nothing. Clearing my mind, trying again. Nothing. She gone, me desperately clinging. Please, Jenny, not all of you if you won’t give it all, just the sense of your hair. Your curves. Your smell. Nothing. Just a rough afterimage of her photos, no physical presence, no reality, no actuality. Essence of Jenny, gone with the night’s dreams.