Alone but Not Forgotten

I met my wife when we were both in our twenties, and since then, our marriage has been everything I never thought possible. But as the years go by, despite all the love we share, there’s a part of me that feels neglected. Tonight, alone in our bed, with her asleep beside me, I touched myself, imagining someone else. It was intense, more intimate than any encounter should be when it's just you and your hand. My fingers slipped into my own tight channel, rubbing circles over the small bundle of nerves inside. I moaned softly to myself, imagining a lover’s rough hands guiding mine deeper. Each thrust brought waves of pleasure, not just physical but emotional too, a yearning for something more than what we have now. I can’t explain why it felt so right even as my hand moved faster, slick with my own arousal until I climaxed, feeling empty inside despite the release.