The low rumble of rubber on tarmac, trees flashing past, silent witnesses to time. The radio chattering at him as he wove his way home, the light of the day slowly brightening. His eyes felt heavy. It had been a long night, cold and wet. He was thankful for the hat she had bought him just last Christmas, its warmth and protection from the slow, constant drizzle a comfort. Not long now, he thought, the miles drifting by as he passed some slow moving traffic. Home, a cup of tea and some time to rest, grabbing some sleep before heading out again later. He didn’t mind the night shift—it often gave him the chance to catch up on those annoying little jobs that often just got ignored or left for another day, but it left him wishing for more time to sleep.

As usual, his thoughts drifted whilst he drove, his tiredness adding a dream-like quality to his musings. He yearned for rest, but thinking of the bed they shared, he couldn’t help images of her flooding his mind—her softness laid next to him, the warmth they shared as he wrapped himself around her, spooning her curves as they dozed. The last time they had lain like that, they had both fallen asleep, warm and comforting, the unbidden firmness of him pressed gently against the valley between the curves of her ass, his involuntary response to her closeness. It had been a short lived pleasure, but his heart ached warmly at the thought and he looked forward to the chance to repeat it. More memories trickled past his mind’s eye and he savoured the sights, shivering slightly at the feelings those images inspired. As he aimed his car down the winding single track road to their house, braking harshly at one point to avoid flattening a pheasant strolling nonchalantly across the concrete, he found that his daydreaming had instilled an urge in him. “Hmm, might need to do something about that when I get in,” he thought to himself. As much as he was looking forward to the comfort of the duvet and the chance to close his eyes, a sudden hunger was growing inside him for something more carnal.

The crunch of gravel as he pulled into the drive, the wood pigeon waiting till he lifted out of his seat before flapping away noisily to the nearby trees.

Key in lock, door opened, boots kicked off and he was in the kitchen, filling the white plastic kettle with a rush of cold water. Dreams of her drifted through him like silk scarves, and as the rumble of the heating water echoed through the house, he remembered a wondrous moment spent with her astride him, her in her cotton dressing gown, panties taut across the rounded lips of her sex, him wearing shorts and a t-shirt. What had started as an innocent cuddle had magically transformed into what he now held to be one of the most erotic experiences he’d shared with her. No words were spoken, her head laid on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her hips, fingers resting lightly on the round of her ass, her warm breath tickling his neck. Slowly, slowly, he'd hardened against her, the curve of her mound. No movement, at least, nothing noticeable and all of a sudden breath being held, shudders of delight running through him, fighting the urge to push himself against her. And then a damp warmth reached through the fabric of his shorts and then he knew that she was as excited as he.

Hips shifting slightly, silence apart from contained moans, heated breath, the intoxicating feel of her pressed firmly against him, the merest twitch sending rapture through him. He realised that she knew what each movement was doing, exciting her as much as him. His cock firm and oh so hard, each beat of his heart causing it to throb in time, exquisite and yet frustrating, Wanting, needing more.

And then the familiar sound of feet pounding the stairs, cries and shouts, the noise of youth approaching fast, the magical moment cut short, promises of pleasures untasted dashed. A knowing smile between them, a sigh, and then the resignation of returning to the real world, to see what the day would bring.