The Mark
Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. (James Joyce)
Emma Dear Owen, I feel the chill of the dark room as I slip out from under the covers, sliding my panties off and ambling around a pile of clothes to the other side of the bed. Reaching under the duvet, I start to run my fingertips gently along his soft warm member. It responds obediently to my touch, stiffening as he dreams. In the dark, I imagine it’s you, snuggled naked in my bed, unaware of the blood rushing to your g...