She was modest to start, knowing that their lusty adventure was this time a performance. His hand swept down the outside of her thigh, and back up the inside of it, with a raw grace that only lovers know, and she melted then as he lowered his head. And so it began. Exposed, they let me in, wonder heating the room, desire shared, and yet exclusive. And so they stayed.
Some sleep with another in the night, one rolling to turn off a light then drop a sleepy hand over the other’s shoulder. Sleep. Sun streams in, and hair, sweat, love linger in the sheets, in memories, in dreams that fade lazily into day.
Some sleep and dream, perhaps, awaken abruptly. The morning is crisp and new, inviting not the lingering, but the search, the never-ending search.