He was lying supine on top of the bedspread. He smiled at her lazily.

She loved his legs, the rough texture and the contours of the muscles in his thighs.

She especially loved the tangled what's-it at the top of his legs. And how it could grow and grow, to maybe four times it's original size. To something straight and hard, pointing up to the firm, carved torso. Masculine patterned hair, coarse to her hand.

So she could spread her legs and slide up, slide down and with just a touch of her fingers bring it home.