“Can you feel it?”
Belle asked me that as I was wrapped myself around her in bed, pressing my naked body against as much of her bed-clothed body as possible, hard stuffed tube pushing into her thigh. We’re at about the end of the second week of my six week lock-up prior to Spring Break.
“Yes,” I said quietly into her hair.
And I can. A lot. Everything is so much more now. How she looks, how she feels, how she smells, how she tastes. I’m starting to think more about what she might want or how she might feel about something or what she’d want me to do. It’s like fucking magic.
“I can tell,” she said before turing over to sleep, “It’s good for you.”
Then, after a moment, “It’s good for me, too.”
Four more weeks.