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Moon Dance


Glancing at the clock, I realize that I have plenty of time
to finish powdering, primping and perfuming before Henry
will be at my front door. I’ve allowed more time for my toilette
than usual: a warm scented bath instead of the customary
shower (which has the added benefit of perfuming the air),
massaging my legs and arms with a generous amount of perfumed
creme, a light dusting of scented talcum here and there
along my skin (and over the cotton bed sheets), and a final
spritz of Sung into the air which I let settle in my hair,
on my shoulders, my back and my breasts. Not enough fragrance
to create my own atmosphere, just enough to last through
the evening‒and transfer to my lover’s clothing.
Makeup and hair are finished. I’ll only need a moment to
slip into my dress. (I hate getting dressed up and then having
to sit around and wait, trying not to get wrinkled.) Tonight
is the formal dance for the hapless eighth grade students
whose mothers enrolled them in ballroom dance lessons.
Eight weeks of foxtrot, waltz, cha-cha-cha, swing and
rumba. Twelve hours of learning the box step, listening
to “Blue Danube” and “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom Time.”
Two months of after-school dance lessons on Monday afternoon,
37 girls and 14 boys shuffling their feet in the large assembly
room while “Mr. Pierre, ” the owner of the local Fred Astaire
Ballroom Dance Academy (“Let Us Show You the Astaire Way
to Dance Success”, counts out the rhythm by loudly stamping
the heel of his right foot in time to the music. Since, technically,
it’s a school dance, a certain number of the faculty is required
to be present and Henry, the eight-grade counselor, has
graciously allowed himself to be pressed into service
as a chaperone. And since I can rarely bring myself to tell
him “no, ” here I sit, looking forward to the evening ahead.

I hear the car’s engine as he pulls into the courtyard to
park; I slide into my dress and shoes and walk toward the
front door to greet him. I open the door in response to Henry’s
quiet knock and stand back, looking at him admiringly as
he steps into the foyer.
“May I just say . . . wow!” I exclaim as I take him in. The new
suit he bought last weekend fits perfectly‒the jacket
highlights his broad shoulders and the pleated trousers
accentuate both his trim waist and the curve of his ass.

“Mmm. You look good, you smell good, I could just eat you
up, ” I say teasingly.
“Maybe later, baby, maybe later, ” Henry responds, looking
at me appraisingly. “Um, Lauren, I hate to tell you this,
but as much as I like your dress, you can’t wear it tonight.”

“But why not, Henry?” I protest halfheartedly.
“Because we’re chaperoning a school dance, not hitting
the clubs in Las Vegas. Didn’t I tell you that the girls have
a dress code for tonight? The chaperones are expected to
set an example. If you wear that dress, you’ll be giving
the boys an advanced education. Don’t you have something
that shows less cleavage and covers your shoulders?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so, ” I say quietly, turning my back
to him. “Unzip me, please?”
“Thanks, honey, and I’m sorry, ” he responds. “We’ll go
out to dinner next weekend and you can wear this dress for
me then, okay?”
“Okay, ” I nod. I feel him pull the zipper down and I make
no attempt to catch the dress as it slides off of me. Stepping
out of the circle of fabric, my back still to him, I bend over
from the waist to pick it up. Taking a few more steps away,
I turn to face Henry, saying, “It’ll take me just a minute
to find something else. Are you thirsty? There’s some bottled
water in the fridge.” Knowing that he’s now had a long moment
to study the strapless black bustier, the french-cut lace
trimmed panties, the garter belt and the seamed black stockings,
I saunter back toward the bedroom to put on the dress I’d
really planned to wear.
“Jesus Christ, Lauren, I’d like to fuck you right here,
right now, ” I hear him mutter.
“Oh, but we can’t sweetie. Can’t be late for the dance, can
I hang up the first dress and quickly slide into a second
one: a short-sleeved wraparound dress of midnight blue
silk jersey. In less than a minute I reappear.
“Oh, by the way, I’ve got a little something for you, ” I
announce as I walk toward the refrigerator. I take out the
yellow rose, tied with a small black and green bow. I fasten
it to his lapel, sliding the pin through the buttonhole.

“What a coincidence, I’ve got something for you, too, ”
he responds, holding out a small clear plastic box.
“Thank you, Henry. I haven’t had a corsage since high school, ”
I smile, opening the box. I hear his soft chuckle as I find
the second item just below the flowers.
“Henry, what’s this?” I ask, holding up the small pink phallic
shaped cylinder. Flanged at the base with a ring at the end,
I know what it is, I’m just surprised to receive a butt plug
in tandem with a corsage.
“Just a little something I want you to wear for me tonight,
Lauren, ” he responds, bending me over the back of the sofa.
I feel the back of my skirt being pulled up, my panties being
pulled down, and the cylinder sliding between the lips
of my pussy. “Jesus, Lauren, you’re already soaking wet.
I’m going to lube this up with your honey, then I’m going
to slide it up your ass. You’ll wear it all night, just for
me, won’t you baby?” he whispers in my ear.
And because I can almost never say “no” to my lover, I nod
as I feel the tip of the butt plug pressing against my rosebud.
My back passage opens with the slight pressure, and Henry’s
gift slides home.
“All night, Henry?”
“Yes, Lauren, all night.”
Helping me to my feet and straightening my skirt, he slides
the corsage over my left wrist. Offering me his arm, he walks
me out of my apartment and downstairs to his car, opening
the passenger’s door for me like the perfect gentleman
he is.
Heading toward the freeway, I fidget in my seat from the
burning sensation caused by the butt plug.
“You’re going to have to relax, baby. You can’t squirm around
like that tonight unless you want to attract a lot of attention.
Besides, you’ve had bigger things up your ass, haven’t
“I know, but I can’t help feeling self-conscious. It’s
going to be a long night, tonight.”
“If we’re lucky.”
The drive is uneventful, and we make good time. We’re among
the first to arrive. Henry greets the principal, one of
the other counselors and a couple of teachers. Some of the
students have noticed our arrival and are clearly amused
to see the faculty members dressed up and with dates or spouses.
Henry responds graciously to the numerous greetings from
“Hi Mr. Cooke!”
“Mr. Cooke, hi!”
“Are you going to dance, Mr. Cooke?”
An affirmative response prompts fits of muffled giggles.
Middle school students have almost as hard a time picturing
their teachers as human beings as they do imagining their
parents having sex.
The DJ has set up his equipment and conducts a brief sound
check. Strains of Henry Mancini’s “Theme from a Summer
Place” fill the room.
And nobody’s dancing.
Ten boys and 22 girls line the walls of the assembly room,
each looking down at the floor as if to memorize the pattern
of the linoleum tile.
“Somebody’s got to get this party started, ” Henry says
quietly. “Care to dance, Lauren?”
“I thought you’d never ask, ” I reply, smiling.
Taking my hand, Henry walks me out onto the floor. My left
hand on his right shoulder, my right hand in his left, we
pause for a long second and then he leads me in a waltz. We
both smile as the assorted students take note. (“Look,
Mr. Cooke’s dancing! And he’s pretty good, too!”
Some of the other adults join us on the floor, followed more
slowly by a few student “couples.” The song ends and is immediately
followed by a few songs that have been played during the
Monday afternoon dance lessons. The familiar melodies
seem to bolster the courage of some more pupils, who gamely
walk out onto the floor.
More students (and their parents) have arrived, but a lot
of the kids are still holding up the walls.
“You don’t mind if I dance with some of these young ladies,
do you, baby?”
“No, in fact I was just thinking the same thing. Do you suppose
it would be all right if I asked a couple of the boys to dance?”

“Absolutely, as long as you keep them at arms’ length. Raging
hormones, you know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, ” I say, staring pointedly at Henry’s
I help myself to a glass of punch as I watch Henry ask one of
the “single” girls to dance. I smile to myself as I hear him
apologize that he might dance a little differently than
what was taught in class. His new partner giggles and says
she won’t mind.
Sipping the punch (I swear it’s the same brand that was around
when I was in middle school), I notice one of the few young
gentlemen in attendance hesitantly approach a couple
of girls who have their heads together. Words are exchanged,
and one of the girls vigorously shakes her head. Shoulders
dropping, the boy walks away. Unaware that they can be heard
(or maybe not) I hear a sharply whispered “As if!” A pained
look crosses the boy’s face and is quickly replaced by a
studiously blank expression.
I wait for a moment and then, setting my cup down, I walk in
the boy’s direction.
“Hello, ” I say quietly.
“Uh, hi, ” says the boy.
“I’m Miss Frazier, ” I say by way of introduction. “I’m
a friend of Mr. Cooke’s.”
“What’s your name?”
“Oh, you’re Jeff? I heard someone say that you’re a very
good dancer. In fact, a few people think that you might win
one of the dance contests tonight. I was wondering, would
you like to dance?”
“With you?”
“Well, yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Well, uh, yeah, okay.”
The DJ is playing “Moonlight Serenade” by the Glenn Miller
Orchestra. I hear a few comments from two or three students
about this being the music from Tom Hanks’ make out dance
in Big. Surprisingly, my partner can execute a mean box
step and only steps on my toes twice. As the song ends, I thank
Jeff and ask him if maybe we can dance again later in the evening.
He graciously responds with another “Well, uh, yeah, okay.”

I look around for Henry and notice that he’s now dancing
with the principal. There’s a tap on my shoulder, and I turn
to face a man who introduces himself as Edward, the father
of one of the girls in attendance, and asks if I’d like to
My new partner and I chat idly; he’s a proficient dancer
and is surprised when I suddenly gasp and jump.
“I’m so sorry. Did I step on your toes?”
“No, no, not at all. I’m just not used to these shoes, ” I
respond. I can’t tell him that the reason I jumped is because
the butt plug that’s imbedded in my ass has started to vibrate.
Trying to look casual, I scan the room for Henry. He and the
principal are still dancing; our eyes meet and he smiles
wickedly; I see him holding something in his right hand.
He manipulates the object, and the vibration in my back
passage grows more pronounced until my pleading look convinces
him to turn it back down.
The song is endless. I continue dancing with Edward, all
the while acutely aware of the buzzing in my backside; my
clit has started to throb as well, every step I take is bringing
me that much closer to cumming. The fact that the vibrations
of the butt plug occasionally increase adds to my predicament.
Finally, blessedly, the song ends. Edward thanks me for
the dance; I hastily excuse myself, too far gone to care
about giving offense.
My pussy on fire, I practically run to the Ladies’ room.
It’s crowded with the predictable gaggle of ‘tween-age
girls, preening, giggling, gossiping. They take no notice
of me, some random chaperone. I claim one of the stalls,
close the door, pull my skirt up, my panties down and begin
working my clit frantically. Relief is almost immediate.
Cunt churning, my orgasm washes over me as my fingers slide
in and out of my pussy. I can feel the butt plug moving in my
ass as my sphincter grips it rhythmically. My body shudders
once, twice, and then a third time. Not wanting to attract
any attention from the students, I’ve had to control my
breathing, clenching my teeth to keep from making any noise.

Jesus, my cunt is soaking wet. I reach for the toilet paper,
then reconsider. Pulling my panties off, I use the black
silk to clean my pussy and the inside of my thighs as well
as I can. Not surprisingly, the crotch is already soaked,
but I make do with the rest of the garment. Smiling to myself,
I fold the honey-soaked garment into a small triangle and
tuck it into my cleavage, making sure that it’s hidden from
Finally, I emerge from the stall and leave the bathroom.
The eight-grade girls are still fidgeting with their dresses
and fluffing their hair, completely unaware that I’ve
just had a full-blown orgasm four feet away from them.
As I return to the dance floor, I scan the room and find Henry
talking with a small group of adults. I join them just as
the music starts again.
“I do believe they’re playing our song, ” I murmur in his
“Well, we’d better not waste any time, ” he says, taking
my hand and leading me to the dance floor once again.
It’s a slow song and Henry pulls me into his arms, but not
as closely as he normally would (we have to maintain a sense
of decorum, after all). I relax against him slightly as
he asks, “So how are you enjoying the dance so far?”
“Mmm. I’m having a fine time, Mr. Cooke.” I respond, lightly
brushing my still-moist fingers over his lips.
“Is that what I think it is, Miss Frazier?” he asks, grinning
as he licks his lips.
“That depends. What do you think it is?”
“Tastes like your cunt, baby.”
“You have a sensitive palate, my dear. So tell me, where
did you find a vibrating butt plug, with a wireless remote,
no less?”
“Hey, you’re not the only one who engages in on-line retail
therapy. Do you like your gift?”
“Mmm-hmm, I do, I do. And I’ve got a little something for
you, too, ” I reply, pulling away slightly, sliding my
fingers between my tits and removing the moist black silken
“I noticed that you didn’t wear a handkerchief tonight, ”
I say, slipping the triangle into your coat pocket.
Henry’s fingers move to touch the silk, grinning as he notices
the moisture. “Why so damp, baby?”
“Maybe it’s because of that damned plug buzzing in my ass,
or maybe because I just went into the ladies’ room and finger-fucked
my cunt until I came. Or maybe for both reasons. What do you
“Maybe it’s because you’re thinking about how I’m going
to fuck you after this dance is over, ” he responds.
“Yeah, maybe that’s it, ” I agree, smiling up at my lover.

The DJ announces a 15-minute intermission; Henry makes
the rounds of the students (the group has expanded somewhat),
gently teasing the boys about how well they clean up, asking
a few of the girls who have not ventured out onto the floor
to dance with him later. Slowly working the room, he’s maneuvered
us to an unmarked door. Opening it, he leads me down a dimly
lit hallway and ushers me through a second door marked “Men.”

“We don’t have much time, baby, ” he says as he motions for
me to sit on one of the toilets, “I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

“What? HERE?! NOW!?!”
“Oh yeah, right here, right now. I can’t wait until this
dance is over before I cum. I’d rather fuck you, but it’s
too risky. Come on, Lauren, suck my cock. I’ve got such a
load for you, baby. You’re going to have to swallow it all.
You can’t let my suit get stained.”
In seconds Henry has opened his fly and released his hard
throbbing cock, holding it next to my mouth.
And because I can rarely, if ever, tell him “no, ” I cover
the glistening cockhead with my lips and start sucking
“Oh yeah baby, that’s it. Come on, Lauren, suck that cock.
Suck it hard, oh yeah, just like that, baby.”
Reaching into the bodice of my dress, he starts massaging
my tits, running his thumbs over my nipples.
“Suck it harder, Lauren, jerk me off into your mouth. Get
ready to swallow the load I’m going to give you.”
I moan around Henry’s cock, urging him to cum.
“You ready, baby? Ready to swallow my jism?”
Looking up, I nod, unable to speak.
“Okay, okay, I’m gonna cum, Lauren. Get ready to swallow.
Here it comes, Lauren. Aaaahhhhhhhh.”
And my mouth is filled with Henry’s cream as he shoots, one,
two, three, four times into my hungry mouth. His hands are
on either side of my face and I swallow greedily, hungrily,
as my lover’s seed spurts onto my tongue. As his orgasm subsides,
I continue to hold his cock in my mouth, no longer sucking,
no pressure, just providing an oral refuge for a brief moment
until we regain our composure.
And then he straightens up, tucking his cock away and zipping
his fly. Henry takes my hand and pulls me from the toilet
seat, kissing me in the process.
Pausing for a moment, we both wash our hands and I freshen
my lipstick. Taking my hand again, my lover leads me out
of the Men’s room, down the hall and back into the dance.

The rest of the dance passes quickly. Henry claims the dances
promised by a few of his students; my earlier partner, Jeff,
does in fact win a prize for “Best Foxtrot Couple, ” and
soon the DJ is playing the last song of the evening.
We walk out to the parking lot with a few other couples, chatting
about weekend plans. Henry opens the car door for me and
whispers in my ear, “Pull your skirt up when you sit down,
Lauren. I want your bare ass on the seat.” He stands just
between the open door and the car, blocking the view. Blushing,
I hike my skirt up so that my bare bottom is in contact with
the upholstery.
“Your skirt isn’t high enough. Pull it up around your waist.
I want to be able to see your ass while I’m driving.”
“Henry, are you crazy? Someone might see.”
“No one else is going to pay any attention. Now pull your
skirt all the way up around your waist.”
Henry stands and watches as I comply. My skirt out of the
way, my legs are on display, encased in the black seamed
stockings. I watch my lover watching me, his eyes moving
from my legs to my pussy, framed by the garter belt. He closes
the car door, walks around to the driver’s side, and we’re
“Spread your legs for me baby. I want to be able to see your
cunt, too.”
As I spread my legs, he reaches over with his right hand and
cups my moist pussy, pressing his middle finger between
the swollen lips. I don’t bother trying to suppress my groan
as he removes his hand and licks his finger.
Henry drives me home at a leisurely pace, the car stereo
tuned to the local station that features smooth jazz. I
notice that he’s chosen a different route back to my place;
it’s more rural, with fewer houses along the way. It’s referred
to as the Appaloosa Trail, a nod to the families who keep
horses. After several minutes, he pulls the car to the shoulder
of the road and turn the engine off.
“Everything okay, babe? I ask.
“No, Lauren. I was planning to fuck you again when we got
back to your place, but I can’t wait that long. Get out of
the car, baby. I’m going to take you right now, right here
by the side of the road.”
Even if I had wanted to, I don’t have time to protest. In about
three seconds he’s moved from behind the wheel to my side
of the car, opened the door and pulled me out. His hands find
the belt of my dress and loosen it, allowing the dress to
fall open from the front. Our arms encircle each other and
our mouths meet for a hard, passionate kiss.
I’m almost dizzy from wanting him. In a daze, I watch as he
takes off his coat and spread it over the hood of his car;
he then turns me around and pushes me over the hood, protected
by the coat. I can feel the evening breeze against my bare
ass as he flips my skirt up over my back. The car door is open;
the dome light is shining like a beacon for anyone who might
happen to drive by. Strains of Van Morrison’s “Moon Dance”
float out of the open car door,
“Well it’s a marvelous night for a moon dance,
With the stars up above in your eyes . . . “
Henry’s hand is between my thighs, fingers opening my cunt
lips for his prick.
“Christ, Lauren, you’re soaking wet. You ready for this
cock, baby? You ready to get fucked by the side of the road?”
“Oh, God, Henry. Yes, fuck me, fuck me right now. I want to
feel your cock churning inside of me, your balls slapping
against my mound.”
And with that, his cock slides into me. I can feel my pussy
wrapped around my lover’s manhood, milking him, squeezing
him. We’re fucking like a couple of animals, rutting like
a couple of randy goats. Henry’s coat, while insulating
me from the heat of the engine, doesn’t provide much friction
and I feel myself sliding backwards an inch or two. I instinctively
grab at the coat, inadvertently jogging the wireless remote
and causing the butt plug to start vibrating at full throttle.

The unexpected stimulation ignites us; our bodies move
against each other furiously for another moment, Henry’s
cock plunging in and out of my soaked pussy. I can feel my
pussy tightening, the throbbing grower slower but more
intense, almost stopping; his plunging cock takes both
of us over the edge. I turn my head to look at Henry; his mouth
captures mine and we kiss, mouths open, tongues dancing
as we moan together.
Silence. Drained, spent and breathless, neither of us
has the energy to do anything but lean against the car and
breathe for a few long minutes. Henry’s arms are around
me, holding me against him, and I feel his kisses on the back
of my neck.
“Mmmmm, ” is the only response I can muster.
Finally, I’m led back to the passenger’s side of the car,
but I pause before stepping in. My dress, clammy with sweat,
is suddenly unbearable and I shrug it off, draping it across
the seat back.
“You want to ride back like that, baby?” Henry asks, smiling.

“What’s the difference? No one’s going to notice us, right?”

He chuckles as he closes the door. My hand finds his as we
drive back to my apartment. Parking in the courtyard, Henry
walks over to my side of the car and opens the door, proffering
his jacket.
“That’s okay, baby, I’m not cold, ” I say, smiling slyly.

This time it’s Henry who asks quietly, “Are you crazy? Someone
might see.”
“Well, they certainly will if we stand around out here all
night. Now, will you please walk me to my door, kind sir?”

And my partner in crime falls into step behind me, staying
about three paces back as I climb the stairs, dress draped
over my arm, still wearing the corsage, the black bustier,
the garter belt, seamed black stockings and high-heeled
Perfect gentleman that he is, my escort takes my keys from
me, opens the front door and follows me inside.
“Henry, what a delicious evening.”
“It was, wasn’t it?”
“Could you do me just one favor?” I ask, starting to turn
“What’s that, baby?”
“Take this butt plug out?”
Bending me over the sofa, he retrieves the instrument of
my pleasure and my discomfiture, wraps it in the silk panties
I had tucked into his breast pocket a few hours earlier,
and drops the packet in his coat pocket.
“Hey, I think you owe me a new pair of panties.”
“I’ll take you to Victoria’s Secret after brunch tomorrow
and buy you a new pair.”
“Thank you, Henry. Henry?”
“I feel so empty back there now.”
“I know how to take care of that, ” he responds with a rakish
grin, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me back to the
Tossing me on the bed, Henry stands back and undresses,
draping his clothes on the antique rocking chair in the
corner of the room. I love watching him, and I lie back and
smile as more and more of my lover’s body comes into view.
In short order, we’re intertwined on the bed, his body over
mine, mouths locked in a deep kiss.
Breaking the kiss, he whispers in my ear, “I’m gonna slide
this hard cock all the way up your pussy to get it nice and
wet, and then I’m gonna fuck that sweet ass of yours. It should
be nice and relaxed by now so that I can fuck you long and hard.
And when I’m ready, I’m going to bottom out right there, ”
you say, playfully smacking my nether cheek for emphasis.

“I’m gonna keep you on your back so that I can ass-fuck you
missionary stye; I want us to be able to look into each other’s
eyes when we cum.”
“Yes, Henry, yes, please fuck my ass. Fuck me till we both
cum, ” I manage to gasp.
My lover’s eyes never leave mine as he guides his cock to
my open pussy lips. Even though it’s been less than half
an hour since he took me on the hood of his car, my pussy has
started to tighten again. I love feeling myself bloom as
Henry’s cock starts to open me again.
He takes his sweet time sliding in my pussy. I smile up at
Henry as I start to milk his cock with my cunt.
“Baby, your pussy feels like molten wax.”
“Take your time, Henry, enjoy it, it’s all for you.”
“I know it is. It’s all mine, isn’t it, Lauren?”
Henry thrusts two, three, four more times, each thrust
is slow and sweet. Mmmm.
And then, all too soon, it’s time. I feel my lover’s hands
under the cheeks of my ass, his thumbs pulling my rosebud
open. Without touching it, he lets the head of his cock just
rest against my back passage. Shifting his weight forward,
his cockhead presses against my opening. I feel that delicious
burn created by the pressure and I watch him watching his
cock pressing against my asshole.
And then it happens. My pink starfish just winks opens on
its own and seems to swallow the head of his cock like a hungry
little mouth. Henry continues to hold my ass in his hands.
For a long moment, we’re connected only by the bridge of
my lover’s cock.
A shiver starts at the small of my back and travels like quicksilver
up the length of my spine.
He looks into my eyes again. “Yeah, baby?”
“Please, fuck my ass.”
He drapes my ankles over his shoulders and leans toward
me. As he does, the shaft of his cock slides into my rosebud
until his balls are resting against my ass. I moan in pleasure.

“D’you like it like that?”
“Mmm, yeah Henry, just like that.”
And he starts to thrust in earnest. With my ankles over his
shoulders I have a hard time moving back against him. I grab
the bed linens and use them for leverage, arching against
him, helping to increase the speed and pressure of our thrusts.
The room smells like our sex; I can smell my pussy and his
sweat, I can smell the perfume I spritzed on the sheets hours
earlier. I can hear Henry’s labored breathing coming in
hoarse grunts as he thrusts into me.
The feeling of his cock inside that forbidden passage is
unbelievably sweet: the burn as his cock stretches my sphincter,
the indescribable feeling as he fills me, and then knowing
that his cock is all the way inside of my ass. I try desperately
to find some way to distract myself so that I can prolong
the pleasure, but it’s always too short lived. I’m overwhelmed,
and the only thing I can do is . . .
“. . . cummmm . . . I’m cumming Henry. Ohmigod, ohmigod. It
feels soooooo, soooooo . . . Oh Henry, I’m cuuuuuummmmming
. . .”
I hear Henry groan, and I know he’s only seconds behind me.
The speed of his thrusts increases and his lips are tickling
my ear as my lover announces his own climax. Henry collapses
on top of me; my arms encircle him, as do my ankles, and I hold
him close, feeling his heart hammering against my chest,
listening to him breath, his sweat running over me, baptizing
me . . .
And we sleep. Oh, not for long; it’s maybe ten minutes or
so before we regain consciousness. We chuckle quietly
as we temporarily untangle our assorted limbs long enough
to pull up the covers. In another moment or two, our bodies
have found a familiar configuration: me on my side, Henry
spooning me, his upper hand cradling one of my breasts.
And once again, we sleep.

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This took a while to get started, but once it did: WOW!!


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I remember those dance lessons, I wish the "final"
had been like this one.


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where in this world can i find a woman like this? please let
me know!!!!!!!!!!!!


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Good plot, stayed pretty much on course...liked it.