It is all too easy to tell that the Quiet Man hasn’t visited me in some time. It has been three weeks since he last held his flesh against mine and I have another two before I see him again. Our next meeting shall be one without physical contact though. His children will be there and don’t even know of my existence, regardless of our seven months together. I don’t know when, or even if, I will see him again. It may be as long as another seven weeks, it may be over before then.

What I am sure of though is the ever increasing need. Ten weeks without. Ten weeks. Ten. Long. Weeks. Ten weeks without the touch of another, without hands on my skin, without the warmth of that touch spreading across my flesh, without the kiss on the neck that makes the hair stand on end. The kisses on lips and shoulders, the warm breath close to my skin. I yearn to touch and be touched, to run my fingers along warm skin, to kiss that skin gently. I long for the slow undressing while hands and tongues caress slowly, I need to kiss a chest and stomach whilst removing clothes. I need to feel the anticipation, the passion - the want - that this elicits. To give pleasure with only kisses, knowing that soon there shall be more.

I want reciprocation - to feel his kisses, his tongue and his hands moving from face to shoulders, to chest, to stomach. I want legs and bodies entwined as we slowly, deliberately find our way. No rush, just slow, gentle, passionate play. Two people enjoying each other.

I want to feel the excitement as hands and bodies become firmer in their desire, as clothes are consigned to wherever they may land and obsession takes over - the obsession that accompanies desire for so brief a time. That thing that makes passion so exhilarating. I need the touch, the taste and the smell that goes so well with the acts of passion, every sense blazing, tingling with what is present and with what is anticipated. I crave the sensations, the heart thumping, head rushing delight that is penetration and the intensity of a long slow session with a like minded partner. I need to feel the heavy breathing, the sweat, the testosterone induced frantic desire for climax and I long to hear the fervent words that compliment the moment so well.

It has been so long since I felt these things, far too long. I need to have sex very soon. Is it possible to implode through lack of action?