I shared the image above in February 2018, with the (now edited) text below…
Faith makes all things possible… love makes all things easy.
~ Dwight L. Moody
It builds up inside me. My cunt twitches, leading a life of her own, and I tighten my muscles to cause another twitch. The thought of a climax crosses my mind, but mostly when this happens, I’m in a place where I can’t go with the urge. By the time I can, I’m either too tired or have forgotten about the spasms of my intimate flesh.
That’s how it starts… a simple twitch, a spasm, a reminder that I’m missing his touch and that – for now – I’ll have to do it myself, or go without indefinitely.
The desire returns the next day, and maybe the next, until it’s a permanent itch, and I cannot deny myself my own touch anymore.
That’s when my hand starts to roam, cupping my cunt and rolling the flesh of my labia between my fingers. I delay touching the begging flesh of my clitoris, or dipping 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, knowing the mood might pass; that I might just turn over and go to sleep.
Soon I’m 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…
With the latest twist in our lives, I might just be right back where I’ve been in 2018, even though I know while I’m in the midst of the current events, the urge will be dormant. But, it will return…
© Rebel’s Notes