I've never been one to want to be seen, let alone touched. The thought of hands on me—human hands—used to make my skin crawl. But now, I find myself craving the weight of him pinning me down, his cock buried so deep in my cunt I can't remember my own name. It's not gentle. It's possessive, claiming. He fucks me like he's trying to erase every century of loneliness I've endured, and I let him. I arch my back, my extra legs wrapping around his hips to pull him closer, begging without words for him to fill me until his cum is dripping down my thighs. It's the most honest I've ever been.