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Going For A Swim
Copyright 2002 by Melinda Edison.
He goes to sleep early. He gets up early too.
It has been is very cold in the house for the past few nights.
Last night when I came into the dark bedroom tiptoeing so as not to wake him, I felt for the end of the bed and ran my hand across it, turned, walked down the side, flipped down the covers and slipped in.
He seemed to be totally asleep, but his scorching hot legs slide under my ass like he is creating a diving board for me to sleep on. I like it very very much.
His voice breaks the darkness, “Honey, are you wearing a skirt tonight?”
A skirt?! He makes me giggle. “No. It is cold and I left my sarong on.” I tell him.
Now I have confused him. Girl things. I usually wear a wifebeater or a slip to bed leaving my bottom open. He likes to be skin-to-skin. I need to keep my chest covered or I wake up feeling sick, it is my weakness.
I untie the sarong, lift my body, and slide the sarong down the blankets to the floor. He likes me in the morning. I like it too, except that his movements and whispers get tangled up in my dreams. Sometimes he is those elusive shadow characters until I grow more awake and am fully with him.
Tonight I am being a bad girl. I take his hand and slip it between my legs. “I am cold baby.” He pulls me close, tight, his bone pushing hard into my spine. “Now, okay?”
“Yes.”
I turn my body toward his. “You sleep. Let me take you.”
“Please do.”
I touch myself, then take him…slow, uncomplicated sex. He sucks my fingertips, and I slide back onto his diving board waiting for a fresh round of nightmares.
