just left. He came to pick up his belt. He ‘forgot’ it the other day when he was here. Desire burns in his eyes when he looks at me. He looks as me as if I am the sexiest woman in the world. I it; it makes me feel incredible, beautiful, and sexy. I’m not afraid to be myself with him. I feel like I’ve known him for years.

Usually, I am somewhat self-conscious in bed1 because I can’t stop thinking about how imperfect my body is – with its excess fat and bright pink scars leftover from self-injury. However, it barely crosses my mind when I’m with him.

As soon as he got here, he kissed me deeply and said, ‘Hey beautiful, I’ve missed you. How have you been?’ He acted as if it had been a few weeks, instead of a few days, since we last saw each other.

WARNING: It gets graphic from here.
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  1. unless I’m . [↩]