In a burst of heat, I woke in the middle of the night. Light from the traffic signals outside spilled through my windows, bathing my room in red and green and yellow in turns. And despite the stillness, the bloated quiet of the hour, a thunderstorm surged within me.
My heart was racing, my mind spinning, and I was breathing hard as if I were in the middle of a glorious fuck. As if someone had me pinned down to my bed while he thrust into me, repeatedly with the intent of breaking me. All I could do was moan and pant and beg for him to go harder and harder while I dug my fingernails into the mattress.
But no one was here. So why was I so flushed?
I threw the blanket off and yanked my pants down to my ankles, trapping my legs. Then I started rubbing myself. Furious circles. I was so wet; the sound of my fingers and my lips filled my room. Slick and fast, my fingers strumming my clit, pushing my lips, slapping the juices silly, trying to contain this heat.