Chapter 3

Our bodies were covered with sweat. Travis and I were sprawled out on his bed. The pillows and covers were tossed aside. The comforter was nowhere to be seen. I was laying in the wet spot, but I wasn't complaining.

I counted at least four orgasms, one of which was of the mind-blowing variety. Two more were probably really just continuations of the first one.

"Happy birthday," he croaked feebly. As wonderful as Travis was in bed, I'd like to think I was pretty good myself.

It was my birthday, after all, so I took him for a ride. We did it in every conceivable position. Missionary. Me on top. Doggy. Reverse cowgirl. Shower. Sixty-nine.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

"Thank you," I managed to reply, lifting my head from the pillow and smiling. I reached over and patted him gently on the chest, which was still heaving from his exertions. My juices were running down out my pussy.

"Are you staying?" It was our custom to ask, even though there were never any expectations. He slipped the spent—and as we found out later, broken—condom off and dropped it into the trash can by the side of his bed.

"Do you want to drive me home?"

"Not really."

"Then I'm staying."

And that was the end of our conversation. He rolled over on to his side enough to blow out the candle on the nightstand, then spooned up behind me and we fell asleep.

The next day, we woke up, showered and he took me out for a nice brunch before dropping me off at my apartment. That was the last time I saw him for twenty more years.