He's such a pretty boy.
I like to look at him, lying there asleep without a care in the world. Flat on his back as usual, with his arms wrapped round the pillow above his head.
Today, as on most days, I'm awake before him and it gives me the opportunity to sit up in bed and just look without making him self-conscious. I like to study the shape of him, the colour of his skin, the slight asymmetry that makes rather than mars his face, imbuing what might otherwise appear too cold with a hint of his quirky personality. I watch the flickering beneath his eyelids, the gentle heaving of his chest, the occasional twitch of those arms. And at about this time every morning, the tent-like rise in the light summer duvet as his early morning erection gets into gear.
There it goes. My (admittedly) short experience has taught me that he'll be waking naturally in about ten minutes. Time to move then.
I've already been awake for about half an hour. I've always been a natural early riser, waking with the first lightening of the sky. I've never needed an alarm clock, which generally is a blessing, though it can make it hard to get over jet-lag anywhere that doesn't have really thick curtains. The curtains here aren't bad in themselves, though plenty of light gets round the edges and through chinks here and there.
There is one chink right now, right at the top centre where the curtains meet. The sun must have risen as it just lit up, casting a beam through the dust motes dancing in the air like a searchlight.
It's hitting the wall right above John's head, a little triangle of gold, or an arrow pointing right at him.
That gives me an idea.
Can I pull it off? If I slip up it will give the game away, but then again it's pretty sure to blow his mind if it works. Worth a try, he's slow to wake anyway, so I'll probably get away with it as long as I can keep the sun out of his eyes.
I stand right in the centre of the window and open the curtains a little. The dawn sun strikes my body, just clearing the horizon but already there is heat in it, even this late in the year. I stand there for a few moments, naked in the sun. In my head I know the windows are silvered, and that virtually no-one has a view even if they were awake at this hour, but a lifetime of training screams at me to draw them closed again.
I resist the urge, then master it and push the curtains open, quietly and carefully, as far as I can reach to the left and right. Six feet of span and floor to ceiling open to the dawn with myself framed in it like DaVinci's woman. I turn and see my own shadow cast on the floor, the wall, and right across John on the bed as intended. So far, so good.
I walk towards the bed down a path of darkness amid the sea of gold. Very poetic, very unlike me. I grasp the duvet, and slowly, carefully pull it down and off.
Oh my, what a sight!
I am already wet between the thighs at the thought of what I'm planning, but the sight of his firm upright manhood just lifting itself clear of his chest, nodding slightly in time with his heartbeat, would do the trick if I wasn't.
I reach down myself with my right hand and massage gently. I'm glad I shaved yesterday, and now I reach between and spread the wetness around my lips. I feel them swell as I do. No need to imagine much longer, but I slowly insert the middle two fingers and rub with my palm anyway.
Just for a few moments I think of Tennyson doing that, reaching round from behind as she pressed herself against me and kissed my neck, while John stroked my left breast with one hand, and took my right between his lips.
Only one of them here now, a pity in its way.
I decide to stop dreaming, I am here now and I wouldn't have dared even dream of this a few weeks ago. I certainly could not have conceived it as even a remote possibility. Yet here I am now, and I resolve to make the best of it, which is a very good place indeed, and not allow myself to be distracted by where I have been. Besides, I hope and expect to be going there again. I press into myself again, my breath catches; with these thoughts running through my head I could come this way in no time at all, but I won't, I'll save it.
I'm ready, and so clearly, is he.
I climb onto the bed, still careful to keep my shadow falling across his face. This isn't easy, but he's got his feet together thankfully so it isn't impossible. I crawl up and over him without touching then, when I'm positioned in the right place, I sink down to my knees and, with a little help from my wet hand, slide his cock inside me.
He's still asleep, but I feel him stiffen further on his own, filling me and pressing me forwards. I resist gently but firmly, sitting back onto my heels and rocking there gently to feel it work inside me.
John's eyes flicker faster for a few heartbeats, then open a crack. I don't make a sound. Neither does he, but after a few moments he reaches back and pushes the pillows into a ball to bring his head up a bit.
I look at him, and he looks at me. I imagine I'm not showing much detail with the bright sunrise right behind me, though I can see him perfectly well. I look into his eyes, now clearing as the sleep leaves. They begin at my face and slowly descend my body down to where we intersect, then they slowly begin to ascend again, stopping here and there. His face is still expressionless, but I'm gratified to hear his breathing deepening a little, and his cock responding too.
His eyes dwell around my breasts for a few moments. I don't consider them my best feature, I have always thought them too small and hard, but John has shown clearly that he likes them.