Highschool Crush (Ex Boyfriend)

D (1)

God I miss him so much, he made me feel like one of those girls you read about in a sexy book. The ones where the guy is protective, and tall, and dreamy, with the perfect body. He made me comfortable, and safe, and loved. Why did he have to end it. All I want is for him to like me back, to know he sincerely wants me at least half as much as I want him. If he knew how obsessed with him I am he'd probably be either weirded the fuck out, or extremely flattered. He opened up to me about his life, his shitty shitty life. And he listened to me when I opened up about mine as well. Now every time I hear his voice, see his smile, his hair, his dimples, his blushing cheeks, and, dear lord, when I see how he looks at me, all of it just makes my heart melt. I get so aroused thinking about him, and yet he also made me feel like a happy little girl when he used to hold me. What I would give to feel like that again, wrapped in his arms. I want to feel him, not just his body, but his presence, his touch, his breath on my neck, his heart beat when I was against him, his gentle, soft, but raspy voice echoing in my ear. God, how I want to just kiss him anytime I'm near him. But I can't because he's not mine anymore, if only I were just able to know how he feels about me. "I want him, I want him so bad, what I would give for him to just be mine again" I repeat to myself everyday. The thoughts I have for him, the unholiness of what roams my mind when even just the slightest sprinkle of him is randomly popped into my brain. I can't help but smile awkwardly, and blush profusely whenever he's around. Lord Satan could chain me to the pits of hell and I'd still manage to escape if it meant he would kiss me again. No restraints could hold back my arousal when he talks directly to me, his blue eyes piercing into mine. I could listen to him go on and on and on about anything, and the whole time, I would just listen to whatever it is he had to say. As long as it's his voice, I'd listen to it for decades on end. His body, I'd kill for, those hands make me scream, I'd sell my soul to wear them as a necklace. He could be micro and I'd consider it a privilege to have him pleasure me. As long as it's him and me, I don't care what he's into. He's perfect, he's what I live for. I feel like dying when I don't see him, he lights my day, and pleasures my night.