Memories Of His Love
This story is dedicated to Touch. The most talented and loving man that I have ever known. This is a complete story, there is sex in it, so do not despair, but it doesn't get there right away. I think once you read the whole thing you will understand.

Memories Of His Love
Written by Christina Carlson

I remember the day we met like it was yesterday.

Almost four years ago

Who the hell does he think he is!? I fumed as I read his private message to me. I had written a story called The Threesome and everybody said that it was really hot, everyone that is except for some guy that went by the user id of Touch. His message said "Your writing needs some work." This was the very first story I had ever written, and here this stranger was telling me it wasn't good. Maybe if I hadn't just separated from my husband, who emotionally, mentally, and verbally abused me for the last 8 years of our marriage, I wouldn't have taken that comment so badly. But to me it was just another man telling me that I wasn't good enough, didn't measure up. And I would be damned if I was going to take that lying down, not this time!

So I sent him a really sarcastic, and snotty private message back that read: "I'm sorry that my writing didn't measure up to your obviously professional standards. Being as you don't like this story, you shouldn't read any other ones I post, since you won't like them either." I had pressed send before I could think better of it and change my mind. A deep sense of satisfaction had come over me. There, I told that asshole! I tried to put it out of my mind, but it was hard to do.

Later that day Touch sent me a message saying, "sorry you look at it that way, meant no harm." Yeah sure, "meant no harm." Screw you and the horse you rode in on, ran through my mind! I didn't want to hear his half assed apology! So I ignored him. I bet his writing sucks shit!

Bringing up his list of fantasies, I was surprised that there were so many to choose from. I looked through them for a title that would spark my interest and saw one named "Attitude Fix" and "Attitude Fix 2." Alright, let's see what this jerk can do. About half-way through the first part of it I was intensely aroused, and by the end of the story I had orgasmed. I read the second part, and that was just as good, and had the same affect on me. I couldn't believe it! This guy had given me two climaxes, and I wasn't even touching myself when I came either!

Oh crap! Maybe he's right and my story isn't good. I mean, his are, so maybe he's right. I decided the next time I saw Touch logged in, I would talk to him. This man has me intrigued now, and I needed to apologize to him for being such a bitch and overly sensitive to his comments.

When I logged into the site the next day I had another message from him saying, "your writing isn't bad, just seemed rushed." I had looked to see who was online to chat with, and there he was. I sent him a message apologizing for being so bitchy. And believe it or not, he told me it was no problem at all, that he liked me standing up for myself, and in fact it had gotten him excited. I laughed at that comment, although of course he couldn't hear me. I was amazed that he was being so gracious to me, when I had been so rude to him. It said good things to me about his character.

After that night, he and I chatted here in v9 every day at least once, and sometimes more than once. For the first week or so they were getting to know each other conversations, both in general and also our sexual turn-ons and preferences. We found that we had the same values in life, and attitudes towards sex. An attraction towards each other built, and our conversations eventually led to some incredibly hot sex chats that never failed to make me cum.

Touch was so sexy and so sweet. He appealed to me in every way, and he said that he felt the same way about me. I could tell that he was being sincere, and after how terrible my life had been for so long, his words were a balm for my soul. I was falling for this man, and I mean hard.

I had been through a terrible experience about two weeks before I met him. Somehow he sensed that something was wrong. He told me that he was a good listener, and got me to talk about what was eating me up inside. He was right, he was a good listener. He was also the most caring man I had ever met. His outrage on my behalf and soothing words comforted me in a way that nobody else would be able to. His heart called to mine, and mine answered that call. That was it for me, I felt an unmistakable pull. I knew that what I was feeling was love. But how could that be? I had only known him about a month.

One day I suggested that it would be much easier to talk on the phone, instead of typing everything out, and I asked if he would like to do that. Please say yes... please say yes... that silent plea kept running through my mind, I was dying to hear his voice. Luckily enough he said he would love to talk to me on the phone, so we exchanged numbers.

He had to go for that night. Bedtime rolled around pretty early for him. He would get up at five o'clock each morning in order to take his brother to work and then head in to start the day at his job. But we made arrangements that I would call him the next night.

I was so nervous the whole next day. What if he didn't like the sound of my voice? What if on the phone things were awkward? How was I going to greet him? What was I going to talk about? So many thoughts and questions ran through my mind that by the time I called him I was a nervous wreck. Which is funny now when I think about it, because I had nothing to be worried about. It ended up that he loved my voice. In fact, he told me later that he was gone the minute I said hi Bill. He said my voice was as sweet as honeysuckle on a summer's breeze, and that it both soothed and centered him. The funny thing was, his did the same for me. I could listen to him talk for hours and hours and never tire of his deep, sexy, velvety voice. It was almost a drug, and I certainly was hooked.

Even though I was separated from my husband, for financial reasons we had to remain in the same apartment until our lease was up in three months. Those three months were on one hand very difficult for me, and on the other hand very sweet and exciting. My soon-to-be ex was being as nasty and insulting as he could be. But I would shut myself up in the second bedroom, which housed the computer, and talk for hours and hours with Bill. Most days we would talk until the battery ran out on his phone. Then we would hop onto v9 to chat until our phones recharged, then call each other again.

Now granted, some of the time we were having hot, steamy phone sex, which was the first time for both of us, but probably seventy-five percent or so was spent in actual conversation. We talked about anything and everything. The more we came to trust each other, the deeper and more personal the conversations became. It was the first time in my whole life that I let everything show to another person, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I figured that way he would either like or dislike the real me, not just a white-washed version of me.

And he did like me, in fact liked me a lot, which to be honest was a surprise to me. My soon to be ex had really done a number on my self-esteem. He had told me that nobody that really knew me would or could ever love me. That was a horrible thing to hear. After all, I was only forty-two and the prospect of being alone for the rest of my life was scary. And for whatever reason, conditioning I guess, I believed him. But when I told Bill what had been said, he told me not to listen to a single word my ex said. That he was only trying to get in my head and hurt me more. He told me that I was the sweetest person he had ever met, sexiest too. I could tell from his voice he was being serious. He genuinely wanted me, and quite truthfully, I was stunned.

By now I knew that I loved him, and knowing that scared the shit out of me. A few times I almost let it slip, saying I love...your accent, or I love...the way you make me feel. So many times I caught myself just in time. I was afraid I would scare him away. I mean, let's face it, most people come to this site to find someone to get them off, they're not looking for a girlfriend or for love.

I certainly wasn't looking for love or a relationship, and neither was Bill, but something between us just clicked. We were two halfs of a whole and I felt it. They say love comes when you least expect it, and that certainly was the case with us. After numerous times of almost letting the "L" word slip Bill typed "we seem to be tip-toeing around a certain word, but I'm not afraid to say it. I'm calling you right now." When I answered the phone, the first thing he said was "I love you." Tears sprang to my eyes, his voice gentled as he said it, almost as if he were actually here caressing my cheek as he spoke.

"I love you too, and have for a while now. I can't say from the moment we met, considering how that went." I still giggled every time I recalled the way we had met. Luckily for me you like sarcastic and occasionally bitchy women. "But from the time we started chatting, I knew there was something special about you. You made me feel treasured and loved in a way that nobody before you ever has. And that is precious to me, as are you."

As the weeks, months, and years passed our bond strengthened. You would be surprised how close you can be with a person even though they are eight hundred and fifty miles away, I know I was. Our sex life was smoking hot. I only needed to hear his bedroom voice and I was instantly aroused, even if I hadn't been before he called. He was a very generous lover always bringing me to numerous orgasms before he would finally succumb. His moans when he finally did were so hot I'm surprised the phone didn't melt.

He couldn't be too loud though, he was outside on his back porch, it was the only place that he could go for privacy, funny as that sounds. His boldness shocked me, but the house to his one side was empty and the one on the opposite side was positioned in such a way that his backyard couldn't be seen. Still, I would blush and giggle about it. Somehow he always knew when I was blushing, and it was something that excited him.

"You're blushing again aren't you?"

"Yes I am." His moan at my response told me how much he truly did like the fact that I was still innocent enough to blush.

We rarely went more than a couple hours without communicating in some way, whether by email, text, or phone, even if it was only for a quick I love you text if we were busy. We truly were "doing life together," even though geographically we were so far apart. He knew everything going on in my life, and I in his.

And we knew each other so deeply and well that we could finish each other's sentences, which was really helpful to me, since the damage done to my brain from the stroke I had a few years ago left me at times searching for the words to express what I wanted to say, especially when I was tired. But Bill was always able to provide the words that I couldn't find, and I appreciated that more than I could ever express. When we would brainstorm together on stories, we would often have the same thought at the same time. We just fit together like two interlocking pieces in an intricate puzzle, and I loved it.

Don't get me wrong though, being apart wasn't the end game. We both desperately wanted to be together in the same city, same house even. But there were circumstances that kept us apart until they could be resolved. Bill was a caregiver to his brother, so was unable to leave and travel out to me. And while at times I wished he could just drop everything and come to me, I knew that he couldn't, and I admired and respected his loyalty to his brother. He was a stand-up man who wouldn't shirk his responsibilities towards others, even if that meant that he had to put some of the things he wanted and needed on hold for a while.

Money was also an issue keeping us apart. The college that he had worked at for twenty-eight years shut down two whole departments, his being one of them. He was able to retire with a pension, but it wasn't the same as what he had been earning. And I have no income right now. I've been waiting about four years to be approved for disability. You would be amazed at how long the government can drag their feet, and how many hoops they can make you jump through in the hopes that you will give up so they don't have to give you any money.

All I was waiting for was that first check to come and I was going to move to be with him. He couldn't come to me, and I had nothing holding me to the town that I temporarily called home. So I was more than willing to move cross country if it meant that we would no longer be apart.

It was definitely hard to wait though, and at times the loneliness was almost unbearable. Bill would remind me that it wasn't forever, and that we had much more than a lot of other people do. And of course he was right, just like he often was. But still, the waiting made me nervous. I mean, you never know what life is going to bring, and none of us are guaranteed a tomorrow.

It will only be a little while yet he would say, we'll have the rest of our lives to be together. He would tell me that we're already married in our hearts, and we'll be together soon. I melted every time he said that to me, just like the many times he told me that he wanted to be with me forever. Who wouldn't melt? Forever is such a powerful word and concept, and I was overjoyed that he wanted to spend the rest of his days with me, which is the same way I felt about him.

It always surprised me that his feelings were just as strong as mine were for him. I've never thought of myself as anything special, so for this wonderful and interesting man to love me so deeply, was a complete surprise and something that I treasured. Then he would say something funny or shocking to make me laugh, he would always do that whenever I was sad or depressed. He made me smile and laugh more than anyone in my life ever has and I suspect ever will.

February 12, 2016
I beat Bill to the punch on our typical good morning, I love you texts. It took him about an hour to answer and told me he had a major sinus headache, and that he would call me a little later once he felt better. The whole time I've known him he tended to get sinus headaches when the weather changed. I told him to take something for it and lay down for a while. The message he sent back was okay, and I love you.

That was the last time I ever heard from him.

A phone call from a number I didn't recognize came in just before six o'clock that evening, so I let it go to voicemail. The more I looked at the number though the more it nagged at me. A few minutes passed before my curiosity won out and I checked my messages. It was Ann, Bill's sister, she asked me to give her a call as soon as I could. I thought maybe she was calling to tell me that Bill was really sick and in the hospital, or maybe she was even planning a surprise party for his birthday which was a few months away. I was in no way prepared for the true reason for her call.

The first time she said it I just couldn't comprehend what she was saying, so I asked, "can you repeat that?"

"Bill is dead Chris. I am so, so sorry. I wanted to call you right away, I knew you were probably worried, wondering why he hadn't called you yet."
"Bill's dead?! I knew he had a really bad headache earlier today. What happened?" By this time I was crying, and I'm sure I was a little hard to understand, but luckily she did.

"Well Bill picked up Johnny from work, just like he always does."


"He took three steps into the house, said fuck, then fell flat on his face. Johnny tried to wake him, but he was already gone. I'm so sorry Chris, I know how much you two loved each other."

This was the one thing that I had always feared. In fact, a couple years back for about a month I had a dream every night that Johnny would call me to tell me that Bill had died. Now my nightmare had come true, only it was Ann that called instead of Johnny.

I never knew I could hurt so badly yet still live. It felt like invisible hands had slammed through my chest wall and were wringing my heart out, twisting and turning it like you would a wet dishrag. I somehow managed to hold myself together while we were on the phone, but just barely. I was crying, but I wasn't falling apart like I knew I would right after I hung up the phone. We spoke a little about the arrangements to be made. I asked Ann if I could write a poem to be read at his funeral.

"That's a great idea. He told me that you two had writing in common. I'm sure that he would love that. Send it to me as soon as you have it done, and I'll make sure that somebody reads it. I'll call you tomorrow once we have all the arrangements made."

As soon as I hung up the phone I couldn't hold back the deep sobs that wracked my body anymore. I just couldn't believe that he was gone. Like most people I've heard the saying my heart broke, but until Bill's sister called me that night, I hadn't ever truly experienced that feeling. But I am now. I must have cried a million tears that night, and still cry every day. Not only am I grieving over his loss, I am also grieving for the life together that we were planning, that now will never be.

I spent the whole next day writing and rewriting the poem that would be my final good-bye to the man I love. I wanted it to be perfect, or as perfect as I could make it considering the circumstances. I changed it around half a dozen times before I was finally satisfied and hit the send button. A couple hours later Ann called telling me how beautiful the poem was and that she liked how I had made it so personal, but not so personal that anyone would feel uncomfortable.

I was not able to make the trip out for his funeral, which tore me up then and still does to this day. Even though my brother generously offered me his miles for the plane trip out there, I didn't have a place to stay. I couldn't afford a hotel, and none of his family had room to put me up. Plus they said that with all my health issues that Bill wouldn't want me to be traveling alone. And they were right, he wouldn't. He was very protective of me. But if I could've swung it I would have gone anyways, even though that isn't what he would want.

I just wanted to see him in person, to touch his skin, to kiss him, even though he wouldn't be kissing me back. But who knows, maybe under the circumstances not being able to go was a blessing in disguise. I very seriously doubt that I would have been able to keep it together. And I would have been all alone, without the support of anyone that I knew when I fell apart. And I've no doubt that I would have.

"Ann, I have a request." I was hesitant to ask anything of her when she'd just lost her brother, but I needed a tangible reminder of him.

"What's your request?" She sounded suspicious. I'm not sure if she expected me to ask for money, or if it was just the wary nature that seems to be prevalent in people from that area of the country.

"Could I please have a couple of his shirts? And could you please make them ones that haven't been washed yet, so I can smell him? I know that's a strange request, and I promise I'm not a weirdo..."

"I don't think you're weird. One of the women I know lost her husband not long ago, and she said that she would put one of his shirts on and it helped her to feel closer to him. So I do understand, and will send them to you as soon as I'm able to."

In fact as I sit here writing, I am wearing one of his shirts which she'd sent me. She ended up sending me five, one of them being the shirt he was wearing when he died. The paramedics had cut it off of him, so I can't wear that one. But it smelled of him just like the one I'm wearing. When I received it I cradled it in my arms, and inhaled deeply. The scent of him surrounds me. Is it his cologne, his deodorant, his soap, or maybe even his laundry detergent or fabric softener? It doesn't matter what it is, this is what my Bill smelled like, and it's intoxicating to me. I had cried so hard, knowing that I would never feel his warm chest beneath my cheek as we snuggled. On one hand the shirts brought home to me all the things that I will be missing, on the other hand the scent of him soothed me, just like I had hoped it would when I asked for them.

I still can't believe he's gone. My heart feels like it's been shattered into a million miniscule pieces, never to be whole again. It's only been about three and a half months since I got that horrible phone call from Bill's sister telling me that he'd died. But it feels like it's been forever. I would give anything just to hear his voice full of laughter and love again. To have his body surround me as his arms hold me close.

Lately my emotions wildly fluctuate, one moment numb, the next crying my eyes out, body heaving with sobs I swear will never end. The thought of being without him is almost more than I can bear. I just want to go to sleep, and never wake up again, but that's not possible. So I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, plodding along, whether I like it or not, and most days I don't like it. A widower friend of mine told me that it does get better, which I'm certainly thankful to hear. I can't imagine feeling this lost and alone for the rest of my life, that would be the most horrible way to live out the rest of my years.

I've also noticed that I'm not really paying much attention to my surroundings, just kind of on auto-pilot, which has been happening a lot recently. Bill is on my mind just as much now as he's ever been, if not more. It's almost like I'm sleep-walking through my life, one minute aware of my surroundings and what I'm doing and the next looking at the clock and realizing an hour or two has gone by without my knowledge.

I think it's shock. I got up the morning that he'd died looking forward to talking with him, but that wasn't to be. Bill was my light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how messed up my disability claim was going, or how messed up my health was, I always knew I would walk, or even crawl if I had to, through the crap that was my life, and Bill would be there. The promise of him, and the life we were planning and building together kept me moving forward, no matter how hard it was.

What do you do when that is snatched away from you? How do I get closure when I never touched him, either in life, or after he died, never kissed him, never felt his arms wrapped around me. One minute I was moving toward the life that he and I wanted, and the next I am getting a phone call from his sister that he had died. How do I deal with my heart being ripped right out of my chest?

There are so many things that I remember and miss, the sound of his deep velvety voice, and the way it would gentle as he told me he loved me. The sound of his laughter and how it filled me with joy to hear it. His bedroom voice, and the silky tone that excited me so much. The sound of loving concern as we talked about the countless doctor's appointments that unfortunately are now a large part of my life. He always made me feel like a precious treasure that he must protect. But most of all, I remember his incredible love, and how lucky it made me feel.

Last night I had wanted to relax completely, or as much as I can right now, so I decided to take a bubblebath. I couldn't remember the last time I had done this. The heat beckoned to my tension filled mind and body, and as I slipped into the water the smell of ripe raspberries filled the bathroom. The pleasure filled moan that escaped as the water settled around my shoulders seemed overly loud in the silent room. Sliding in a little more, I closed my eyes letting the water soothe me body and soul.

The hot water lapping against my now bare skin sent tingles throughout my body, as did the towel as I dried off. It seems that my libido, which has been asleep for the last almost four months, is awakening again.

I had my clothes set out on the foot of the bed and had just started putting my sky blue lace boyshort panties on when arms closed around my waist and soft lips placed a line of kisses down the back of my neck. This is the first time in what seems like forever that anyone has touched me, or kissed me. So just the sensation of being touched made me moan in pleasure. Plus, my neck is incredibly sensitive, and I get extremely excited when it's touched or kissed. Judging from the hard cock I feel against my back, it's most definitely a man kissing me. And I recognized the scent of his body from the shirts his sister had sent me. "This better be who I think it is, or there's going to be real trouble here."

"Sorry my pet, it's not Brad Pitt."

There's the voice that I've been desperate to hear for so many months now. "Fuck Brad Pitt, it's you I want."

"I love you so, so much." If I lived to be one hundred I will never forget the joy I felt at hearing his words.

"Wait a minute," I told him. Spinning in his arms, so I could see his precious face, I said, "tell me again."

Hearing Bill's voice, and then seeing the truth in his beautiful blue eyes made my heart skip a beat. But the months of pain and loneliness hit me, and I fell apart. He pulled me close, my head nestled against his chest. He can barely understand me as I sob out, "one minute you were here and the next one you were gone. I've missed you so, so much. I feel so alone without you here, nothing is the same."

"I know my pet, I've seen the agony that you've been through. But you know I would've never left you if I had a choice in the matter."

He sat us down at the foot of the bed and rocked me back and forth, his hand stroking my back as he made soothing noises and just allowed me to cry out my grief. When my sobs died down he told me to go into the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face and blow my nose. He said, "I can't stand to hear you cry, especially knowing it's because of me. I don't want us to spend any more of our limited time on sadness. I only want to create happy memories for each of us to hold onto for the times that we're apart."

Now that I had "cried it out" I was all for creating some mind blowing memories. After finishing in the bathroom I walked back into my bedroom to find Bill standing naked beside my bed. "MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM YUMMY," was all I could think of to say right at that moment, and my mind instantly switched to more carnal thoughts.

He was a mountain of a man, and I loved that. "Really?" His doubts about his body were clearly visible in his eyes. I'm not sure who it was that had convinced him that he was ugly, but he firmly believed it. And I always swore that if I found out who had made him feel that way, that I would hunt them down, and kick their ass. Because he was a really handsome man, and he never believed me. I was hoping since he could see the sincerity in my eyes that he'll finally believe me.

"Absolutely, and I am more than willing and able to prove it to you."

My hips swayed as I slowly walked across the room, my eyes never left his until I was standing right in front of him. Reaching out my hand, I cupped his balls, then slowly, teasingly moved my hand up his cock. My hand wasn't closed, my touch light, and as I got to the tip, I would start at the base of his cock with my other hand. I kept doing this, loving the weight and feel of his hard sex in my hands. His eyes drifted closed; the look of pleasure on his face excited me so much.

Pulling on the back of my neck, he didn't stop until his lips were mere inches from mine. "That feels so good, my love." We didn't speak for quite a while then, our lips did all the talking, both in English, and French.

When we finally pulled apart, our chests were heaving. Bill put his hands on my shoulders and gently but firmly pushed me down onto my knees. "Suck me, my pet." He didn't need to tell me twice. I know that he probably expects me to only take a little of him into my mouth at a time and slowly slide down his length. But wanting to surprise him, I take all of him in one gulp, until my nose touches his bare skin at the base of his cock. He moaned long and deep as my tongue slid up his shaft. It was the most exciting sound to me, and one that I've longed to hear for almost four years now. His gasp told me that he's thoroughly enjoying my unexpected move.

I slide up his straining dick, sucking hard, with my tongue massaging his soft-skinned steel shaft. He's definitely a mouthful, and I'm loving that. I sucked him fast and then slow, changing up the rhythm frequently so that he never knows what I am going to do next. I'm enjoying teasing him like this and being in charge.

But I'm even happier when I feel his hands slide through my hair, grabbing it and holding my head motionless as he fucks my mouth. I've wanted to feel his ass muscles flex as he strokes in and out for so long now. His movements become even harder, slamming his cock deep down my throat, balls slapping against my chin as I gag a little.

"There you go baby. Take my fat cock! Take it all!"

His movements became frantic, I was loving it of course. It brought me great pleasure to know that I was making him feel so good.

All of a sudden though, he pulled out of my mouth. The loud pop as he did demonstrated just how strongly I was sucking him.

"Wait a minute my pet." His labored breathing made speaking difficult for him, and understanding him difficult for me. But he did manage to get out, "if you keep that up I'm gonna cum, and I don't want that to happen yet. There are so many things I want to do with you. One of those things is making love to you until the sun comes up, and if you keep doing what you were, I'm not even gonna make another minute."

We both got a chuckle out of that. And it thrilled me that I had such a strong effect on him. I rose from my knees and before he could do anything else, I pushed him back onto the bed. Climbing on top of him, I straddled his hips. My hot sex pressed against his, panties wet, both from my pussy and his pre-cum dripping cock. And as I continued stroking my body against his I could feel him getting even harder. He slid his hands lightly up my back, goosebumps following the path his fingers took. Reaching my neck, he pulled me down until his lips met mine.

His kiss though hotly passionate was also incredibly sweet and tender. And I melted into him as the trauma of the last few months without him disappeared. The thinking I would go insane if I didn't hear his voice again, the loneliness, and the gut wrenching pain, all washed away as he kissed the tears I didn't even know I'd cried from my cheeks.

I laughed as the joy of having him here with me again flooded my soul. And suddenly the sweet kisses grew frantic, our shared hunger sweeping us away.

We had always talked of our first time together being a slow exploration of each others bodies. Discovering in person the touch that would bring each other ultimate pleasure. Pleasure that until this time we had only been able to talk about, not feel.

But so many years apart, and the deep love and longing that we felt for one another made going slow an impossibility. And before his actions could even penetrate the lustful haze that had come over me, he closed me in his arms and rolled. I was under him in a heartbeat, and the next beat felt his fingers frantically pushing the crotch of my panties aside as he slid into my body. My cry of combined shock and pleasure stilled his movements as he allowed my body to stretch to accommodate his girth.

"Are you alright my love?" His voice was strained, and his body trembled.

"Ohhhhh yesssss! Way better than alright!"

"Then please tell me that I can move now?" His laughing plea touched my heart. I don't think anyone had ever wanted me this much before.

"Ye-," he started moving before I had even finished answering. We both moaned at the extreme pleasure his movements brought.

"Fuck! You're so tight my pet...feels so damn good!"

His movements at first were slow, deep, and steady. Each stroke brought me ever closer to my first orgasm. Lowering his head, he took possession of my mouth in a kiss so volcanic that I almost expected to see actual sparks flying between our lips.

A pace that had been slow only seconds before, grew faster and harder with each stroke. The ferocity of the pounding he was now giving me was breathtaking in it's intensity. Our movements completely harmonious as we both raced to our climax. I fell over the peak just a few heartbeats before he joined me in orgasm. He trembled, wrapped tightly in my arms, as his cock pulsated with each powerful jet of cum that exploded into my body.

The love, joy, and peace I felt told me without a doubt that my heart was finally home. Safe in his keeping, forever.


"From now on I will be able to come to you on holidays and anniversaries. But please promise me that you won't cry so much anymore? You're breaking my heart. You know I can't stand seeing you hurting."

"I can't promise that, but I'll try."

"Just remember my love, I'm always with you, even if you can't see or hear me. I'm always right beside you, your hand in mine." He had told me this numerous times before he died, when the loneliness of missing him was almost more than I could bear. But he would tell me this and the tears would dry, and a smile would once again be on my face. He could always make me smile. Just one of his many, many talents.

On February 12, 2016 the man that you all knew as Touch died. The world lost an aspiring writer, and I lost my very best friend and future husband. I'm writing this both as a tribute to an amazing man that I was privileged enough to call my own, and to try and get some sort of closure for myself. I'm sorry that it took me so long to write this. Partly I just wanted everything in it to be perfect, but the other part was that I could only write so long before it got too painful and I would have to set it aside for a while. Everything in this story is true, except of course he didn't come to me as a ghost to make love to me, although I sincerely wish he had.

I loved him, and still do love him, I always will. I was going to marry him. But he died, and now all I have left are memories of his love. I ache to feel his arms closed tight around me, the sweet and passionate kisses that we would have shared.

He is past me now, living in a perfect place. But the love we shared didn't die with him. It lives on deep within my heart. And when I close my eyes for the very last time, I know that he'll be there to escort me to our forevermore.
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