As I cleared the breakfast dishes, Emma mentioned that scientists were redefining the second. “Says here in the paper,” she said, looking at me with her eyebrows raised.

“As long as the foot stays a foot,” I said, countering her assertation, if that’s what it was.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, “it seems a foot can be expressed in seconds. The distance it takes light to travel something or other. In a vacuum. Time measures all.”

“I guess I should keep my feet out of vacuums,” I said.

“You do have nice feet,” Emma asserted. “Hate to have them shrink unduly. Or expand without authorized provocation.”

“Speaking of time, though,” I mentioned, “it seems our bird clock may be losing it.”

“Where is it losing it?” she asked.

“Down a rabbit hole?”

“So maybe this is a good time for a foot fuck,” she said.

“Really?”

“No time like the present she said, pulling down her panties.

Much as I might have wanted to, of course I couldn’t fuck Emma with my foot. That didn’t mean I couldn’t press her clitoris with one big toe while caressing her silky slick sex lips with the other. All the while I talked sweet and naughty to her. “What a lovely little cunt you have, my love. So much honey in your fuck hole. Your sweet sweet honey flooding your about to come cunt. Yes, sweetie, come now. Come, sweetie. Come so hard and good. After you come, I want you to suck your cum juice from my toes. Yes, come now. Come, sweet. Come.” Pressing her clit. Nuzzling her cunt. Pressing and nuzzling, pressing and nuzzling, and sure enough, after a time, I felt that flutter, saw that clench of anus, and she was coming, oh yes, coming, so sweet and strong, so hard and good, one come spasm after another. My adorable Emma in orgasm.

Emma lay not quite quiet. Purring. “You made me feel so good,” she said.

“Me too,” I said. Then for no reason I could think of, I thought of the woodchuck tongue twister. I recited it for Emma.

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

A woodchuck would chuck wood all day if a woodchuck could chuck wood.

“What does ‘chuck’ mean, anyway?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” I said, “it’s just something woodchucks do.”

“Do any other animals chuck?”

“Not that I know of,” I said.

“So there’s no second verse?”

I sang: How much barley could an aardvark charlie if an aardvark could charlie barley? An aardvark would charlie barley all day if an aardvark could charlie barley. How much gorse could a unicorn horse if a unicorn could horse gorse?”

Emma laughed. She caught my foot with her hand. “Do one with fuck,” she said, steering my sole to her sex.

Time stopped. At noon our bird clock showed 6:40, though it was still going, owl, loon, chickadee, eagle, hour after hour. Strange.

“Maybe we’re in a time wrap,” Emma suggested.

“Should I set it forward?” I asked.

“No,” Emma said, “Might as well take advantage. Let’s go back to bed.”

Owl, eagle, loon. Woodchuck. Woodchuck. Woodchuck.