"Wish you were here," he types, sending the message into the void. His heart aches with longing, his body craving the touch he can't have. He lies back, his hand wandering down to his throbbing cock, then lower, to his puckered hole. He pushes a finger in, then another, his hips lifting off the bed, seeking more. He grabs his dildo, its size and texture a poor substitute for the real thing, but it's all he has. He fucks himself, his moans filling the empty room, his body yearning for the connection he craves.