The long drive to the vacation cottage was exhausting. Mat hauled the suitcases inside and set them on the floor in front of the bedroom closet. “Whew!” he exclaimed. “I think we overpacked. And there’s only one clothes hanger. How are we going to survive with only one hanger?”

“Let’s worry about that later,” Emma suggested. “Instead of unpacking, why don’t we relax at the pool?”

“Good idea,” said Mat, the empty clothes hanger in hand. While Emma slipped into her pool shirt, Mat undressed and then looked for his swimming trunks.

Mat’s mouth dropped.

“What the matter?” Emma asked.

“My pool shirt, the one you got me to match yours. I forgot to pack it. Possibly my swimming trunks too.”

Emma frowned. “You won’t need trunks, and you never liked that shirt.”

“I loved that shirt,” Mat declared. “Will you ever forgive me?”

“I don’t know,” Emma said. “It was a meaningful gift.”

“I know,” Mat said. “The shirt felt so good. And the flowers were so nice.”

“Here’s an idea,” Emma said. “You could share my flower.”

“How would I fit?” Mat asked.

“Good question,” Emma said. “My flower is rather small and delicate. And your stamen is rather big.”

“Oh, that flower,” Mat said, grinning.

“Mmm, I see your stamen likes that idea,”

“He does,” Mat agreed.

“My special flower likes the idea, too,” Emma admitted. “Already the petals are moist and dewy. But will your stamen be up for the task?”

“It will. It will,” Mat insisted.

“A little test,” Emma said. She picked up the clothes hanger and hooked it over the shaft of Mat’s erect penis.

“See, I passed,” Mat said, when his erection jutted upright, the hanger failing to cause an inch of droop. “Now can we—”

“First my bangle,” Emma said. “I don’t want to jangle during the pollination process.” She looped her bracelet over Mat’s cock.

“Still strong,” Mat said. “Now can we—”

“Such a lovely stamen,” Emma said. “I bet the pollen is honey sweet. I’m going to try a little lick of it, okay?”

“Great idea,” Mat said.

“Just pretend my tongue is a little bee, buzzing closer and closer to your nectar.”

“I think nectar is what the bee makes.”

“Are you critiquing my metaphor?” Emma asked.

“No, no, not at all,” Mat said. “It’s just my stamen is so hungry for your flower.”

“And my flower is so hungry for your stamen. But hold on—I just thought of something.”

“What?”

Emma bent over her suitcase.

Mat’s mouth dropped. “My flower shirt,” he said.

“Aren’t you pleased? Now we can go out to the pool.”

“But what about your flower? What about my stamen?”

“Swim first, fuck later,” Emma said.

“Seriously?” Mat said.

A wicked smile upon her lips, Emma leapt into Mat’s arms. Her legs embraced his back. Her arms locked behind his neck. Her cunt captured his cock. And just before her breath took his, she said, “You’re the only hanger I’ll ever need.”