24/7

It's gotten worse since the beginning of winter break. You occupy every free second I have to myself, and all it takes is the thought of your fingers on the back of my neck (or any of the other million things you did to me that night) before I fight to keep my hand from wandering south. You make an appearance (brief or not) in at least half of my dreams now. Whether or not this constant lust for you is healthy no longer matters. I gave up trying to forget you a long time ago.

This won't be a long post. How much more could I elaborate on the night we spent in my room? How much more could I describe the ways in which you drew sigh after sigh--shudder after shudder--from me? I think about all these tiny details, and I instantly lose myself in carnal reverie until someone or something snaps me out of it. No one should ever know how much I have regretted not going all the way with you. No one could ever know how vividly you made me felt throughout the entire experience.

I don't know if I'll see you again. But I'll remember.