I need refueling. I am empty of you. I am starving for you. The feel of your breath on my lips. The taste of your cum. The grip of your fingers twisted in my hair. The sound of your voice in my ear as you whisper that I am yours, your pretty little whore. I close my eyes and try to remember the rhythm of your thrusting. My fingers curling around the nothing that should be your cock.
Soon is not soon enough.
I could waste away to nothing by then.