Laying naked in bed, after making love in the morning light of this beautiful Sunday, your arms wrapped around my waist, your head on my thighs playing gently with the goose bumps on my skin…
I reach down to kiss your raven hair. It is soft and my fingers revel in caressing the skin on the nape of your neck. As we lazily let the minutes pass by, exchanging soft touches and glancing out the window to the sway of leaves in the morning chill I pick up a book and start reading out loud to you, to me, to the birds chirping in the distance and to the air of care and gentleness that surrounds us.
I feel you changing, getting more and more turned on, yet more and more relaxed as my accent sways past your ears, delighting your hearing with the rythm it has. With every page I finish, your carreses grow impacient, rougher, dangerously closer to my wet pussy, same as mine do, nails now dragging up your back in patterns I wish were marked in your skin for good.
We remember almost nothing from the book, except for touches and cadenced words as we, yet again, make love in the chilly morning air.