Lonely Nights

It’s lonely nights like this that I end up thinking of you. The room’s too big, for all that it’s filled with my things. The bed’s too wide, too cold, too empty as I lie alone on the fresh sheets and imagine you next to me.

I feel the cold air on my skin as I run a finger down my body, tracing from my neck and along my collarbone. You’d have followed with your lips and tongue, moving down my body. Your hands follow after that, and you’re laughing at some comment I’ve just made. Your smile is just slightly dirty and your eyes are taking me as thoroughly as your body will.

As I push my underwear off my ass, I reach down and find my favourite toy in the box under my bed. You might not have been able to vibrate but you had warm skin and probing fingers, and you slid your cock so slowly into me, gently flicking my clit as you did and sending beautiful spasms up my body.

I push my face into the sheets that no longer smell of your sweat and scent, and your hands are gripping my thighs as your cock fills me and makes me want so badly that I pant out your name over and over-

But as the warmth pushes me over the edge and I ride the wave down into the ecstatic tiredness, I know that I miss your hands and your tongue and your cock and your body. I miss the feeling of someone next to me. I miss the strength and the pleasure.

But in the end, I don’t miss you.

Because now the only person I have to please is myself.

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