I got up from the bed and found my clothes scattered across the wooden floor. I pulled them on quickly, still half-dazed. My cock felt filthy and slick against the fabric of my underwear, sticky with dried cum and the woman's juices. I really needed a shower.
There was no way I had spent the entire night just masturbating to hallucinations. The woman had been real. Every filthy, overwhelming moment of her had been real. And some quiet part of me still wanted her warmth back.
She had that kind of effect on me, the kind that lingered long after the body was gone.
After I finished dressing, I looked around the small cabin for my trolley bag. Then the memory clicked into place. I had never brought it down here with me. I had left it up on the deck the night before.
