I remember a lot of details. I remember the delicate appeance and translucent skin of the first one, and the sensation of him ejaculating inside me, but what I remember most was how his lower lip just begged to be sucked, and how he seemed to have every shade of green and gold in his irises, and how brown his eyes were when he was ill. I remember the circ scar on the badboy I tried not to love. But I remember the urgency in his voice when he'd say he wanted me. I remember how his eyes shone behind the lenses of his glasses, which I know he put on so I would think he was nerdy. I remember how his skin was so soft, but his shoulders were so big and his hands were so strong. I remember how his farts smelled, and the sound of his laughter when he'd dutch-oven me.
The one that got away? I remember how impossibly long his penis was. I remember the shape of the head. I remember how he felt inside me. I remember the intensity of his kisses, and my heart still accelerates when I smell someone who smells like him. I remember the words he used to tell me he loved me. I remember the words he used to break up with me. I remember the words he used to ask me to take him back. I remember, before we split, the words he used to try to convince me to get pregnant. I remember how he said goodbye, and ended our friendship one night. I would still know his voice anywhere. I miss his smile.
I had strong feelings, not love, but intense like for a man who I believed felt the same for me. We never had sex. But I remember his penis as if I saw it last week. I remember the yellowish skin, his golden-brown hair, and even the scent of his sweat. I remember his voive and his mouth, and his easy speech. I can't remember what color his eyes were, but for some reason, I remember the graceful curve of his cock, and how good his cum tasted.
I remember lots of details about a lot of them, and almost nothing about a few of them.
