I was speaking to an ex-lover of mine a few days back. Greg was a guy that I had been a friend with for about a year before we got involved and it was one of those relationships where we really should have just remained friends instead of ever fucking.

I started seeing him on the rebound from the relationship with my first master. At the time I had very low self-esteem and was suffering from depression. Greg was very soft and gentle and loving and we would spend hours together lying on the floor listening to music or talking about books or movies or playing games. We played scrabble and battleship and sometimes we would go out for a game of pool.

We rarely held hands, we rarely kissed and we rarely had sex. Mac thinks that is quite bizarre with me being the insatiable sexual creature that I am. The reason that Greg and I didn't have much sex was very simple. Neither of us wanted to make the first move, so, more often than not, we would both be frustrated. After the relationship had ended Greg told me that he had wanted to fuck me constantly but was never sure when I wanted to so he would hold back. The funny thing is that I would gladly have given him whatever he wanted. He just had to tell me.

He started cheating on me in the third month of our relationship and although at the time I was hurt very deeply, I can understand now that it wasn't a reflection on me or the love I gave him, he just wasn't getting what he needed from me.

It wasn't that the sex we had was bad. It was always gentle and soft and satisfying. It was the type of sex where every touch is a caress and every movement, every breath, is an act of love in itself. We would lie together for hour after hour just touching and kissing and taking pleasure in each other's bodies. After we had both come I would stay beneath him on my tummy and he would stay inside me as long as he could and we would giggle and murmur and he would sometimes sing to me and it was gorgeous. Then the next time we saw each other it would be back to that awkwardness of not knowing what the other wants and we would go without sex for another two weeks.

The girl he ended up leaving me for was very well known for her sexual appetites. She wasn't picky about who she slept with and she grew bored very quickly with any man in her bed and so two weeks after he left me, she dumped him and moved onto some other male.

He didn't try and come back to me. I am grateful for that because I am not sure I would have had the strength to deny him, but it was over. Sadly so was the friendship. It was just too hard to be friends again. It was after I broke up with Greg that I went into a nine-month period of celibacy and the next man I slept with was Mac.

Greg and I kept in touch tentatively. Every couple of months or so I hear from him and he tells me how things are for him. When I first started dating Mac I got a lot of jealousy from Greg that I tolerated because I know it isn't easy to know an ex-lover is with someone new. I also tolerated the 'so want to fuck for old times sake?' type thing from him because I knew he was hurting over Mac and I.

Surprisingly, Mac has always encouraged the friendship between Greg and I. Mac feels that Greg makes me feel needed because Greg needs mothering and Mac is happy to allow it to continue. I have often told Mac that I have no feelings at all left for Greg and wouldn't care if I never heard from him again. Mac always just smiled and nodded in that frustrating 'yes dear' way.

The other day Greg rang me to tell me he had hurt himself in a motorcycle accident. At the time he was riding in just a shirt and jeans, sneakers on his feet and no helmet. He was lucky. All he had done was broken bones in his foot, his left elbow and his right hand and taken skin off a large part of his back. My reaction to this news shocked me. I got angry with him. How dare he endanger himself like that? I asked him if he even realised that there were people that cared about him and would miss him if he were dead. He replied that there was a chance his son would miss him and that's when I really lost my temper. I yelled at him that if he really believed that no one but his son cared then he didn't deserve to have anyone else care. He didn't say much after that and I hung up in tears.

Mac pointed out later that Greg had actually been fishing for me to tell him that I cared and instead of the comfort he needed I had yelled at him. Greg had scared me, because I realised that I did care about him and I didn't want him to not be a part of my life anymore and I needed time to let myself to adjust to that. I don't love him like I love Mac. I don't even love Greg the same way I used too, but I do love him. He is a good friend that I happened to share some very special times with. I know that he and I will never be really close again, even as friends, but he does have a place in my heart.

I think it strange that it is so hard to tell the people I love what I really feel. I wish that I could take back the anger and just say to him 'I care'. I left a message for Greg on his voicemail but I haven't heard back from him yet. In it I apologised for calling him an idiot and told him that he had scared me and that I would miss him if he died but it isn't the same as that first reaction I had. I know that it is what Greg will remember. I have always said I am no good at personal conversation. I tend to say things before I think. I wish I didn't. I wish I could stand back and distance myself from the emotions I feel and control myself better than I do.

Mac is away right now. He left yesterday morning and won't be back until Saturday sometime. He didn't read yesterday's blog until late last night so I woke to a message on my yahoo messenger saying:

'You were right, slut. It was hot.'

I hope that whatever He does today, He takes thoughts of me with Him. I want Him to ache for His slut. I want Him to need me to relieve the pressure in His balls. I want Him Sarah horny so that even if He masturbates it won't be enough to satisfy His cock. I want Him to need me so badly that the only thing on His mind on His way home is throwing me to the floor and fucking me until I scream. It wouldn't take long. I am in a very takeable, fuckable, screamable mood, as usual.

I miss Him. His touch and His smell and His gorgeous smile and the 'Hello you' that I get each morning. I miss His cock and I miss pleasing Him and I miss kneeling at His side.

I know it's only a couple of nights, but somehow, it always seems too long.