Dream
I’m thinking about you. As I lie here in my solitary bunk, my eyes close; my hand starts its journey down from my soft neck, my fingers trailing across my tight nipples as I imagine your hard, work-roughened hands in place of my insufficient ones. I think how it is when you’re here with me, and my hips begin a slight rise and fall in time with my breathing. My heart beats faster as I slide my shorts down, my fingers lightly skimming the hair at the apex of my soft thighs. I slide my right index finger up the juncture of my right thigh. I can feel your lips, your tongue, there. You told me how you love my scent, and I bring my digits to my nose to understand your meaning. My …