The need had been building up inside me for two days straight. It took me by surprise the first day, and I was somewhat annoyed with my inability to focus on anything. Still, I brushed it off, certain that the feeling would pass as it always did.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with furrowed brows. I made sure to keep my thighs separated, afraid of the friction. If I let myself get any modicum of satisfaction, I knew my body would not grant me any rest. Eventually, I drifted off into a peaceful slumber free of unwelcome salacious dreams.
When I awoke the next day, that goddamn feeling was still there, demanding my attention. All day and most of the afternoon, I stewed in irritation and insatiable desire. I kept telling myself again and again that it will pass, it will pass, *it will pass*.
Spoiler alert: it didn’t pass.
I checked the calendar and realized why all this ridiculous arousal had been plaguing me: I was ovulating. Right around this time each month, there are always two or three days in which my body is desperate for a baby. All I can think about is being bred by someone lording over me with my ankles on his shoulders as he bathes my womb in his hot, fruitful cum. That feeling of fullness and wholeness is something that simply cannot be rivaled.