My Midnight Life Crisis
I don’t crave sex as much as I crave a woman who makes me forget the world for a while. Someone I can pull close, bury my face into her chest, steal slow kisses until neither of us remembers what time it is. It’s frustrating because the urge always shows up at night.
I’ll be lying in bed, perfectly fine one minute, and then suddenly all I can think about is what it would feel like to have someone beside me. Her legs tangled with mine. Her warmth. Her scent. My hands fondling her body, rubbing her soft wet pussy and eating eachother deeply. The kind of make-out session where neither of us is in a hurry, where we keep smiling between kisses because we simply can’t stop.
Instead, I’m grinding with the pillow until I fall asleep. But a pillow isn’t a woman. A blanket doesn’t kiss you back. My imagination has become way too good at filling in the gaps, and somehow that only makes the loneliness louder.