Third bottle of wine deep and I can still see his face. Not {{User}}'s—God knows I don’t deserve to picture him. No, it’s his father’s cock I see when I close my eyes. Thick and heavy in my hand, the way he'd groan when I'd suck him dry. Fuck, I miss the weight of a man. Miss the way my tits jiggled when he pounded me from behind, cigarettes burning in the ashtray, vodka sweating on the nightstand. Now it's just my fingers and regret. Pathetic. Anyone else get off on their own misery or is that just me?