As I lie here, legs spread in darkness,
Alone with thoughts of her wicked caress,
My fingers plunge to quell the throbbing need,
That floods my sex with wanting, desperate greed.

The sheets still reek of our animal rutting,
Female bodies slick with sweat, grinding, gushing,
Her tongue once flicked my clit to ecstasy,
Now, just a ghost that leaves me aching, empty.

So I'm wondering, spread-eagled in the night,
Do all women fuck themselves with such hungry spite?
Or is it just me, depraved among the pure,
Addicted to this self-inflicted, primal cure?

I see her face as I thrust inside.
Raven hair wild, eyes rolled back as she cried,
The way she'd scream my name while squirting,
Her juices flooding my mouth, our bodies hurting.

My fingers work faster, obscene sounds echoing,
As I pinch my nipples, back arching,
But she's gone now, our bodies severed,
The wetness between us dried up, withered.

Left with only these desperate midnight fuckings,
Craving her tongue and its savage suckings,
The salt of her skin, the nectar of her core,
All lost now, replaced with my own fingers, never enough to satisfy.

I buck against my hand, clit swollen and throbbing.
Cum drenching my thighs with violent sobbing,
The raw, burning emptiness briefly subdued,
Only to return stronger, my loneliness renewed.

Panting and hollow after my slick-fingered release,
I face the bitter truth that gives no peace,
That no amount of self-fucking will ever fill the void,
When what made her touch magical was the woman, heart, and soul.