I’ve been tossing and turning for what feels like hours.

It’s far too warm, even naked and with the window open sweat is beading on my lower back.

And I’m frustrated.

The sheets feel unbearable. Like taunting imitations of touch. We haven’t seen each other in weeks and my body needs you.

But I’m alone.

And I don’t really want to do it without you.

I used to masturbate often before I met you, but since our first fiery encounter touching myself always feels flat. Like I’m missing out somehow.

I trace one hand over my stomach and my thighs. With the other I playfully start twisting my nipples.

It’s just not the same.

Irritated I turn on my front, one leg up, ass and pussy exposed to the night air that only adds to my frustration.

I remember that you like to fall asleep with a hand in “inappropriate places”, and slide down one hand between my legs and push the middle finger just in between my outer lips.

Letting my thoughts wander and my breathing finally calm...