The Unspoken Longing

She walks by, her scent lingering, a hint of jasmine and something uniquely her. He's drawn to her, a moth to a flame, his heart pounding in his chest. He wants her, every inch of her, her skin soft, her lips soft, her body yielding to his touch. He imagines her, her hair splayed across his pillow, her body writhing beneath his, her moans filling the room. He's hard, his body aching for her, his hand moving in rhythm with his fantasies. He comes, his body tensing, his release a quiet, unsatisfying end to his longing.

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