Just after midnight he phoned again. “It’s going to be at least another hour, maybe two,” he said. “Don’t wait up.”

“I’ll wait up,” she said. “I want to. And besides, tomorrow’s Saturday. We can sleep late. And besides, I have something to tell you.”

“Actually today’s Saturday,” he said. “What do you have to tell me?”

“You’ll just have to wait,” she said. “It’s not a phone kind of a thing.”

“Now you’ve got me wondering.”

“Hurry home, sweetie.”

He could tell she’d tried to wait up. The bedside lamp was still on. The paperback book was on the floor atop a reckless mound of kicked-off summer covers. She lay on her side, her hair spread wide, naked except for that old jogging singlet of his. She was fast asleep.

“My sweetie,” he whispered to himself. He picked up the paperback and set it on the nightstand. As he undressed, he admired the lovely smoothness of her shape, the effortless flow of her repose, her sleek long legs calmly becoming haunch, the sweet curve of her ass. Her pussy lips looked so innocent from this angle. By the time he had his underwear off, his erection was almost full.

She shifted under his stare but stayed asleep. He studied her: the bare breast beneath that loose tanktop—from the side he could see almost all its gentle fullness, even the puff of nipple lifting and settling with each sigh-soft breath; a tendril of hair whispering to the delicate whorl of ear; the tender bump at the nape of her perfect neck. He switched the lamp off, picked up the covers, and stepped around the bed. As gently as possible, he entered it.

Careful not to disturb her slumber, he let the light blanket flutter over her lower body, then he stretched out beside her. “My love,” he said, and his lips grazed her fingers. A soft shock struck his nostrils: upon her fingertips he smelled her sweet cunt scent—wild meadow, honey, sea. He smiled, picturing those fingers at their work, wishing he had been early enough to interrupt her, to witness from start to finish the flow of her passion, the flux of her release. Breathing her fingers, he soon fell asleep.

The storm woke her—a front moving through. Wild rain, cold wind, cracks of lightning lighting for an instant everything. She got up to check the windows.

“There he is,” she said to herself upon coming back to bed. “My sweet tired man.” Apparently in his sleep he’d kicked the covers off. “Resting like a little boy,” she said. “A sleepy little boy.” About to cover him, she stopped. Lightning flickered, silvering his body. She gulped and shivered. “Big strong shoulders for a little boy,” she said, and she climbed into bed. Her lips moved swiftly to those shoulders, and she kissed him there, but lightly so as not to wake him. “And a nice firm ass,” she added, when the storm’s flicker bathed that part of him. Her fingers glided down, traced the muscles of his buttocks. “Very firm, very nice.” While the rain rattled, she continued to caress his ass, testing the fuzzy shadow, nuzzling her body against his. After a while her hands roved gracefully to his front, seeking the special bulge. “And a nice cock,” she whispered, finding it. Her fingertips touched the warm skin, fondled gently the tender folds. “Mmm, yes, a nice fat cock to fuck me with.” He was fuller now, fuller and firmer, and her fingers found their way around, gripped him, pulling up, but lightly, pushing down, but gently, pulling up and pushing down, just a little bit firmer this time, a little bit firmer next time, firmer and firmer each time, until he was fat and full and there was a slight hint of fluid at the tip. “Sweet boy,” she said, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Sweet, sweet boy.” Using her thumb she smeared the droplet of sap about 85 the soft plump head of his penis. Using her fingers she squeezed gently, a slow rhythm, like ocean waves, slow and steady, while the storm played itself into a steadier rain. “So sleepy,” she crooned. “Sleepy cock so stiff and strong.” She rose up in the bed, knelt behind him, and leaning over his body, brought that full fat cock first to her nose that she could smell him and next to her mouth that she could taste him, just one sweet taste, one long taste, one sweet long lingering taste. “Mmm,” she said, and while he was in there, filling her mouth, throbbing gently, she quivered, a rich satisfying quiver, and then it was time to let him go, time to let him sleep, but one last kiss before covering him. “Yes, sleep now. Sleep.”