She always was able to lose herself in a good book. Her vivid imagination painted the scene, conjured up the voices, simulated the emotions. It was a blessing and yet sometimes a curse. As was usual when reading an erotica book, she was able to imagine herself in the scenarios being described. Her most recent acquisition of erotica was no different and she couldn’t deny the throbbing in her cunt. That night, her mind instinctively included Him in these thoughts; but the moment she consciously realized what her mind was doing, she shook it off and kept on reading.
“Must not do that anymore”, she said to herself.
But oh, the pull of her mind, it was too much to deny. She surrendered and let her imagination run free. Just one more time.
As her orgasm built she could practically feel His hand on her throat, his lips at her temple, could almost hear the filthy words he would have uttered at one point. It had been a long, slow climb with an expected grand finish.
The orgasm, however, surprised her.
It was not her cunt releasing fluids and climaxing with pleasure. No, there was wetness but it was not in the right place. As her weak and confusing clitoral orgasm diffused, the tears pouring from her eyes suddenly came into focus.
Instead of the built up sexual pleasure releasing, the blocked heartache released. She let the tears do their thing, she let herself be lost in the emotions and the purging. The painful, heavy lump in her throat had to be dissolved. She silently wept in the darkened bedroom; tears for the lies she had told herself, tears for the fantasies that would never see the light of reality, tears for the loss of him, tears for what she wasn’t able to give him. Bitter anger for never managing to be “more” than the ghosts of his past; self-defeat for not managing to be enough of……anything, really. So much wrong, not enough right.
When the tears stopped of their own accord, she acknowledged to herself: “That was the last time”.
The last time her fantasies would include him.
The last time she would long for him.
The last time she would cry over him.
She put his shoes away; in a box, in the closet, underneath a stack of junk. Chin up, deep breath…..walk away.