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Instantly soaked. Disgustingly, humiliatingly ready.

I grind the heel of my palm against my clit and bite my own arm to keep from moaning loud enough to summon a wellness check. My brain is foggy, my thighs are trembling, and I’m pretty sure if I saw a priest right now, I’d spontaneously combust.

I hate this. This helplessness, thisneed.

But my body doesn’t care. It’s ready, waiting, practically begging at this point.

Flipping onto my back like a frustrated rotisserie chicken, I yank my underwear to the side with trembling fingers. The air hits me, and I gasp like a woman possessed.

Which… I am.

By horniness.

I circle my clit once, then twice. My hips roll up, desperate and instinctual, and I push my fingers in. Then more.

Still not enough.

Still just me, chasing an orgasm like it owes me money.

I slam my head back against the mattress, panting as I hunt down some scrap of relief, some moment of control.

The pressure builds fast - high, sharp,almostpainful.I squeeze my thighs tighter, grind my hips harder. My hair sticks to my face, my chest heaving.

My head rolls back as I continue to fuck myself harder and faster, thighs cramping, hips jerking.

The orgasm hits -

And then promptly ghosts me.

Slips away like a forty-year old man named Brad who's heavily reliant on dating apps, but isn't sure whether he's ready for a relationship.

I let out a furious sob and slam my hand into the mattress.

I feel like a one-woman rage band. I’m shaking, soaked, and soemptyI could sue someone about it.

“Fuck,” I hiss, voice breaking. “Fuck this.”

I glance at the pillow.

Oh no.

I glance again.

Ohyes.

I grab it like it just called me pretty and straddle it with zero shame left in my soul.

The moment I grind down, I see god. Or maybe just stars.

Whatever. It helps.

It’s soft, but just rough enough. I start rocking like a woman possessed, slick soaking into the cotton.

This poor pillow has been drafted into service it never signed up for.

And oh,fuck-

It feelsbetter.

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