I dug out some short, tight white cotton pants and a thin baby blue vest. To them I added a white bikini top. I tried to avoid my eyes in the mirror as I dressed, rationalising it away as simply a fishing expedition.
But under the platitudes, I burned. Having him m**********g next to me, in my bed, had lit a fire inside me that had been banished for a long time. s*x is something for other people; I've never had much luck with it, and the occasional urge I do feel can be dealt with with a vibrator or my fingers.
This, however... I couldn't remember this aching before. This consuming need to touch myself. To be touched.
I shed my sleeping clothes and snuck a brief, pensive look at myself. My ribs were showing more. I struggled into my bikini top, then pulled on the white linen shorts, bri
