Cold

It’s cold under here as I lay under my duvet, pulling it up over my ears. I can’t decide is it better to curl up like a baby to keep the warmth together or stretch my legs so that my feet land in that slightly warmer dent at the foot of my bed where I have sat as I work on my computer, the residue of body heat still lingering.

I wish you were here to wrap me in your arms, your warm breath on the nape of my neck as our legs entwine our body heat keeping each other warm. The hardness of your manhood as it presses against my soft cheeks, your hand on my belly pulling me back against you. As silently we drift into companionable sleep after a long day working and enjoying being together for the latter part of our day.

But you are not here. I can not even hold your image in my mind. I don’t know how your image will appear to me. I don’t know how your arms will feel as they wrap around my willing body. How can I taste your kisses either soft and gentle or full of passion. The sound of your name does not curl upon my tongue as I whisper to you across the ether in the night.
I don’t know who you are.
For we have not yet met.