“What were you dreaming? Are you okay?” “I don’t . . . I don’t remember.” I remember. God, do I remember. His hands. His kisses. The passi...n. “Well, it’s over now.” Over. He pulls me close to him. Comforting. Familiar. Safe. Guiltily I relax into him, all the while trying to hold on to the fire I felt with my dream lover. Replaying the scene again and again until my breathing betrays my thoughts, fast and deep again. Sensing the change, my husband mistakenly reads it as being directed towards. Both hands slid down her right leg as she snuck a peek around for who might be watching. Her hands were covered in too much massage oil as the oil oozed between her fingers as they spread the oil across the front and inside of her thigh. Hands sliding lower on her leg fought against their will to slip quickly inside her. Her hands seemed to have their own will as they neared her knee and retreated up her inner thigh toward her very swollen labia. She squeezed the outside of her labia with one. More

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