The pearly grey light of pre-dawn has C stirring.  He kisses each of my eyelids; his hands sliding down my body, brushing over my breasts, across Eve’s pleasure – that lies a handsbreadth from the navel – and down between my legs that I let fall open to receive his touch.  He kisses my smiling mouth and whispers to keep my eyes closed and relax.  It’s our favourite time of day.

His fingers lazily trace figures of eight around my stiffening nipple.  C’s not the most skilled lover I’ve known, I’ve met better.... and worse.  He is, however, by far the most experienced in what gives me pleasure.  In the 44 years we’ve been together, we have made love to each other, and had sex with each other, nearly 15,000 times.  And I still want him more...

I’m on my back, it’s my right nipple he’s circling with his left hand, and I remember that it was this nipple that what’s-his-name had hit with a thick, heavy spurt. I remember the sudden fresh bleachy smell.  There was a glistening trail from the tip of my nipple, over the swell of my breast ending in a narrow slick on the top of my shoulder.  Where was that?  What were we doing?  Gosh, I haven’t thought about that for a while!  What was his name?

The memory fades.  C pulls me to him and tilts me towards his body, his penis lies heavily on my thigh.  His hand is sweeping over my bottom.  Fingertip pads linger fleetingly on my anus, just pressing and pushing, no penetration, just pleasure. And I think of Armand.  It was our third session, I think.  He had my legs over his arms, his body spreading them apart while his member pushed into me. C was holding my hands as they lay above my head, he was watching.

I had come suddenly and completely.  I was soaking and all my muscles – all of them – were relaxed.  I whispered to Armand that he could, you know, if he wanted.  Without a pause, he raised my legs just a little bit higher and speared himself into that other me.  The silkiness of his shaft, the softening of my muscles, and his hardness gave him entry – there was virtually no resistance.

I remember it well.  It was the first time I had really enjoyed anal sex, and he came so much.

On my back once more, I gently guide C to his goal.  Fully in, he allows his weight to settle on me, squashing my breasts, pressing me into the mattress.  I’m totally his now.  We know what’ll happen.  Movement, pace, variation, sounds, and touch all build to a crescendo, he barks a sudden laugh and I feel him pulse in me.  He doesn’t wilt quickly as others do, and so we lie there letting his seed leak out somewhat, making the umpteenth damp patch I’ve lain in.

He raises himself, pulls free with just a thinning strand connecting us, and lies against my side, his hand already sliding down, eager to feel the fruits of our labouring.  His come-hither finger is inside my wet, wet woman’s well, and he crooks it slowly, faster, then fast.  My back arches, my neck swells, I moan and give an exultant cry, and spurt little jets of cum to join the spreading pool on the sheets. 

Satiated, we turn into each other’s arms and as the warmth and well-being spread into my soul, the sun tips its gold into the sky.  I don’t see it – I’m asleep.