The room was still dark when I woke up, the only source of light coming from the faint glow of the city outside filtering through the curtains. The sheets felt cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heated memories of earlier. I felt an unfamiliar emptiness, a void left by his departure.
Yet, as my mind slowly surfaced from the fog of sleep, the memories of our passionate encounter came flooding back. Each touch, each kiss, each moan played back in vivid detail, stirring something deep within me. There was a growing warmth, an itch, a familiar yearning building up in my core.
I shifted, and the slight friction of the sheets against my skin sent tingles down my spine. My fingertips lazily traced patterns on my stomach, each touch amplifying the burning desire within. My hand wandered higher, cupping my breast, feeling its fullness. My fingers danced over the sensitive peak, teasing and tugging at the erect nipple. The sensation was electrifying, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to my already aroused center.
Taking a deep breath, I let my other hand wander south, skimming over the soft fabric of my panties. The material was damp, testament to the lingering arousal from earlier and the fresh wave of desire coursing through me now. The soft lace felt good against my fingertips, but I needed more, direct contact, skin on skin.
Mustering the courage, I slipped a finger beneath the fabric, feeling the warmth and wetness that awaited. Slow, deliberate…
