Faith makes all things possible… love makes all things easy.
~ Dwight L. Moody

It builds up inside me. I feel my cunt twitching as she leads a life of her own and I tighten my muscles to cause another twitch. The thought of a climax crosses my mind, but I am mostly in a place where I cannot act on it immediately. By the time I go to bed, I am either too tired or have forgotten about the spasms of my intimate flesh. That’s how it starts… simply a twitch, a spasm, a reminder that I am missing his touch and that – for now – I will have to do it myself or go without indefinitely.

The urge returns the next day, and maybe the next, until it returns so frequently that I cannot deny myself my own touch. That’s when my hand starts to roam, cupping my cunt and rolling the flesh of my labia between my fingers. For moments I don’t touch the begging flesh of my clitoris, or dip my fingers in the wetness of my hole. I tease myself, prolonging the moment I know will inevitably come. But I don’t tease myself for too long, because I know the mood might pass. I might decide to just carry on with what I have been doing before my touching, or to go to sleep. Soon I am rubbing and moaning and fingering and groaning and finally bring myself the release I want by his hands.

I’m a patient woman.

I know his touch will return.

Until then… I take care of my own moods…

My fingers are lured into the shadows of my own desire…

© Rebel’s Notes

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