Bereft. So many things can be lost and mourned. For me right now, it’s intimacy. It’s gone. Dead. Mourning a loss can take many paths, but all of them center around the same basic stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Acceptance may be the hardest one. Acceptance means that I have to acknowledge the truth.

Lovelorn. Unbeloved. Unappreciated. All the synonyms apply, yet a marriage remains that, apart from a miracle of God, will alway leave me void. And the needs. I still have needs. They didn’t die with the intimacy. And it’s worse than that, really, but I don’t like to talk about it, even to myself. Screaming internally so the neighbors won’t think I’m crazy, I wander around the house hoping this need will pass. It doesn’t. Shit. My chest hurts and I’m fuming. Sometimes the anger doesn’t pass.

I look outside and watch the traffic. I wonder if they’re in good marriages. It doesn’t matter. Here I am. A cold shower. I need a cold shower. I already know it won’t help. A workout. At least it’ll make me tired. I throw myself into the weights, punishing my body into sweaty pile of exhaustion. It helps a little, but the fire is still burning. Now what? I read some stories, but I’m not in the mood. I’m tempted, but I don’t. A memory. What’s a good memory? Oh, that one. It’s always that one. I don’t even know if it’s real anymore. It doesn’t matter.

My heart’s not really in it, but I need some relief. Alone, I strip completely. Sitting naked on my bench, I use both hands and play with my balls and my cock. That feels good. Mmmm. She’s laughing. She’s being coy, even. Sexy. Another memory. She’s wearing that black lacy neglige. We kiss. I’m running my hands over her body and she moans. It’s hot. Fucking hot. Yeah, I’m into it now.

I kiss that spot behind on her neck and she melts. It’s a lot of memories now. I strip her and feast on her tits. That drives her crazy. She reaches for my cock, and I let her. She tells me how big I am and asks me to fuck her. Not yet baby. Not yet. Having my own agenda, my lips move down over her belly. I can smell her now. That drives my cock wild. She smells good. Like sex itself embodied in a scent.

I tease her with kisses around her mound, almost, but not quite touching her sweet pussy. She’s begging me now. “Please.” I hear her in my mind, and I take another long inhale, drinking in her aroma before I reward myself with her taste. Yeah. She writhes beneath my tongue and strings obscenities together as I bring her closer and closer. She makes a familiar sound and squeezes my head while she bucks through it.

I wipe off my face and crawl over her. She’s drenched in sweat and panting. I like this look. I cover her with my weight and line my cock up with her hole. Yeah. I remember that. Sheathing myself inside her velvet wetness is an inexplicable joy and I love it. My thrusts are slow at first, but her whimpers, the sight of her beneath me, and the primal urge to fuck make me lose control. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open. Noisy pants are the only sound she’s making. Her body shakes under my thrusts and it puts me over the edge.

My hand is wet. Full and dripping. The smell of my own cum reaches my nostrils. I open my eyes. I’m alone. Bereft.

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