"His Beater"

Nights when he's gone, I like to put his beater on.
The scent of him seems sewn into every stitch of the shirt, the warmth of his body embedded in its fabrics. The beater hugging me as tight as his arms, shaped to my body as he does when he sleeps behind me. Nights like this I pull out my phone, glad I have a whole album of him. I turn on that slideshow and begin to touch myself oh so softly, as he had taught me. He showed me just where to put my fingers just by feeling him do so. Biting my lip, grabbing my breasts, stroking my clit, screaming "Yes Daddy Yes" and despite his absence I know he hears me, I know he feels each nut, because we have become one. The love has become deep as he gets when he hammers on my walls with his tool. This man has taken me to a place where I can't be found, put my body in a position where it can't be moved. I hear his voice telling me "Baby I Love You" and that puts me in full speed giving my body devotion, affection, attention, not to mention the blessing of his presence in spirit turning me on. Baby come home and take this white beater off, break me off.. I miss you when you're gone.

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