Longing for Intimacy in Solitude

"Wish you were here," she sighs, her fingers tracing the delicate lace of her underwear. The room is dim, the air thick with anticipation. She's alone, but her thoughts are far from chaste. Her eyes flutter closed, imagining him, his touch, his scent. Her breath hitches as she slips a hand beneath the fabric, finding herself already wet. She strokes, her body responding to the phantom touch, her mind painting vivid images of him above her, inside her.

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