Sweet Memories

Ria is drowning in it. She’s only been here a month and her mind hasn’t let her lover go since the car pulled away. The notes kept coming—pages soaked in want—and today she finally tracked the box down. She tears into it. Each letter she reads pulls a different year out of her chest; her throat tightens around sweet, bitter longing. Once they’re all spread across the floor in the order she likes best, she lets the ache turn warm. Heat gathers low, heavy, and she can’t ignore it. Her fingers find her clit through the cotton, pressing until the fabric clings. Short, wet breaths slip out. She slides the panties aside, parts her thighs, and stares at the slick, shaved cunt staring back at her. One finger dips inside, then two, pushing until every tender ridge inside her flutters. Clothes come off one at a time. Silk drags over stiff nipples; hair tumbles into her eyes. She works faster now, middle finger driving, palm slapping softly with each thrust. Pleasure crowds every thought. On her knees she twists her arm behind her and fucks herself deeper, knuckles bumping her own ass. Sweet salt coats her tongue when she sucks her fingers clean, and the image of her lover behind her—hands gripping her hips—tips her right to the brink. She holds there, shaking, then slams back in. Wet sounds fill the room, urgent, obscene. She comes hard, cunt clenching around her fingers, breath breaking into low, throaty cries. Sprawled on the letters, skin cooling, she pictures their bodies tangled, lips brushing promises into each other’s mouths.