We saw each other for the next week, daily. Each time I looked at him, I knew that we would be together for years to come, given the opportunity. He brought out the boy in me through conversations, evening dates, and the detailed whatnots that lovers share, wanting to spend an endless amount of time together.
How many times did we make love together, either in his apartment above the pub, or inside my rented salt box? Numerous times. Uncountable times. Our naked bodies meshed rather romantically and physically together. We coupled our flesh together with such ease: body parts hard and pressed against other body parts; sweat acting as glue between us, sealing our frames together; elaborated skills of kissing each other, shared; lust and the acts of love discovered, just between the two of
