Alone

I don’t want you to be here now. I just want you to want to be here. I want you to want me. My brain feels squeezed and my hand is curled between my legs as I torment myself. Needing to be wanted, to be filled and fulfilled and taken. The familiar curl of frantic fingers, lapping away at this wet bay. Hard and fast, crashing against the flesh. My eyes are shut so tight, the darkness is so dark its red, like seeing through the skin. 

Deep, crooked fingers rubbing to a rhythm, a tuneless bridge reaching towards the chorus. I’m not the brightest or prettiest thing so sometimes I have to be told. I want to be told that you want me, I want to be told that you want to fuck me, because I do you, desperately I do. 

Sensation vaults from the starting gate and clatters around these limbs. Like an echo or a rattle, that harsh strutting breath makes her way out with a soft sound. Throat cut across with a gasp and a flourish. Shaken legs and a warm rush of pleasure. I needed that, but its not what I wanted.