I remember holding your hand. I remember how nervous you were the first time we did. I don't think you were nervous because I’m a woman, I think you were excited. I'll never forget the shape of your hands, or how soft and squishy they are. They melted in-between the calluses of my boyish hands.

I remember how you'd touch me out in public. You weren’t nearly as touchy-feely as I am and so when you did, it mattered. I always felt that touch from you, it was invigorating. I could never keep my hands off of your body, maybe I diluted myself to you. Your skin was my everything.

I remember how much you wanted me near you, at all times. It felt like we reciprocated that attraction. We were addicted to each other. We both enjoyed feeding that addiction, no matter what we were supposed to be doing in the outside world.

I remember when you would crawl on top of my lap, while I was watching TV. It was as if you painfully, painfully needed me inside of you. I remember how easy it was to get where you wanted me. I remember the face you would make and I could determine what to do, purely based on your expressions and your eyes.

I remember the flavor of your sweat, even though you hardly would even glisten. I  knew exactly where to go, to taste it. I remember covering your body in my own sweat, I loved working that hard.

I remember how long it took me to figure out what worked for you. I remember being frustrated and let down with myself, in the beginning. i’ll never forget the magical moment that I figured it out. The pressure simultaneous with the motion. You told me I was the first person to ever give you an ******. Regardless of whether or not that’s true, I will never forget that you said so.