The night before Christmas, a view where snowflakes fall on to bitingly cold grass, your fingertips pressing against the glass of the window that leaks the outside chill. Under the windowsill sits the large chest of drawers, a coaster holding a warm mug of coffee atop it, the almost too hot but pleasant drink passes your lips as the calm and silence resonates within you.
The fabric of your duvet only slightly warmer as you tuck yourself in to enjoy your coffee, the bedside lamp has been off for a while, your wonder of the outside, like many years before this, before the dreadful events of the past two years, you have returned into yourself for a moment. The light from your phone screen momentarily stings your eyes, its been that long, taking in everything that feels lost, and everything that hasn't existed since your life changed at the start of all this.
A moment of blankness and you wonder what you should do, unlike you to spend an evening unoccupied, sometimes tense from depression, longing to fall asleep, sometimes exhausted, longing for the new day.
A loss of purpose, heightened by the pressures of the situation, a release only on the promise of the people many can't prove their desperation. A little awareness to keep going, everything to live for, held back by that, it feels impossible to see beyond.
You pick your phone up again, the apps come back as you slide your finger across the fingerprint button, left off between apps that appear at once, some hold no interest and some have a rare chance of someone reaching out. It transpires the allure in the room, you threw on some cheap lingerie as makeshift pyjamas, little energy to keep up with the washing, you have't been "there" in so long.
Most days locked to the sofa, daytime TV and half a tub of Ben and Jerry's, your life mundane, that what used to excite you, now a distant memory. You feel a flutter in your stomach that fleetingly shocks your spine, the moan as you'd reach climax with him inside of you. makes your clit and nipples light up, he may be gone, but his memory can ignite what spice there is left, and promising a spring in your step for into the next morning.
You reach and turn over to the cabinet on the other side, rummaging at the bottom through socks and random trinkets, when your hand touches a matte cardboard box, a little struggle for it to be pulled out and you feel the heaviness that you had forgotten about. Thinking back to that one valentines day where he gifted you the vibrator, a secret kept and its memory bringing joy and naughtiness in this moment.
Without a thought, your knickers slide off with one hand, trying to remember how to unlock the toy and turn it on with the other. Flinging the underwear off your feet the buttons light up pink, the shaft of the toy starts rotating, a vibration as strong as the first ever use, the battery still has enough charge, hopefully for one more orgasm, you mutter.
You relax yourself, your buttocks against the fabric, spread as the atmosphere in the room hits your stomach and flower, your breasts engorging against the black frilly bra, the lack of underwire allowing seductive comfort. You lower the speed of the shaft and slowly massage the head of your clit with the rabbit part of the toy, a memory of him against you half consumes your mind. Your pussy now bravely wet as you give in to the seduction of the memory, how warm it all felt, how you could never hold back from the pleasure.
Soon enough your flower takes the length of the toy inside, the sound in the room that of the bed holding your weight, and that of your sex, flutters of moans, unknown to everyone as they were gracefully away. You feel butterflies that will never go away, the emotion of your love for him released when you cum, the next day he will be with you, the memory of sex allowing your release, playing with your nipples and time no longer a factor, him kissing your nipples adding to the jaw dropping event.
For the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel happy to wash your bed sheets the next morning, he helped you out once again.
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