Tonight I’ve led him to believe that I’m out for dinner and drinks. I am having drinks, but I’m doing that solo. My podcast in the background, and an FFM threesome on my iPad as I toy with myself.

I’m incredibly aroused this evening. Freshly waxed, glazed, and swollen. Shh, don’t tell him anything. Let him think I’m out with another while I masturbate and cry out his name at the peak of my passion.

Would he think I’m weird for moaning his name? Too attached? Does it matter? For me, the name is for channeling my intentions and owning my desire. I say what I want, I name it (him), and then pleasure washes over me. I am left satisfied and replete with him.

Even away from each other, I’m still seeking connection to him. Though, I’m much too prideful to admit how much I crave him. Instead, I leave room for mystery while I take every inch of my girthy toy and imagine it’s him. I imagine his weight and warmth pressing against me.

Shh, don’t tell him anything. As far as he knows, I’m a widely desired woman with plenty of prospects. That is true, but I have a singular obsession with him alone. Shhh!