i don’t know, it must have been something o’clock when we poured the last of the second bottle. the window nearest the bed was letting through moon or sun light, but i really couldn’t tell you which.
“here’s to whatever this is, and whatever it will be”
you pulled the sheet up over your body. you were still shy, even though we’d made love, i’m not sure how many times. perhaps it was that we’re making love just once, and it wasn’t over yet.
i sipped, and picked up my note pad. i’d barely written three pages all day, all night. each time i started, i was interrupted. this time, it seemed, would be no different. your smile, from beneath your tussled hair, hinted at that. your reaching over to push my note book from my thigh, and taking my hardening cock into your hand, confirmed it.
“fuck me again, you can write when i sleep”
we had only just met, and we touched for the first time when we entered this hotel room. the first time i entered you, i can’t explain, the mix of first-time and familiar literally took my breath away. the second and third times did not disappoint either.
“maybe i’ll fuck you, and write on your skin”