“i want a hickey this time,” i petitioned from astride his lap, mouth somewhere north of his forehead.

“somewhere appropriate?” he chuckled and squeezed my ass bare-handed. i felt quite small, and i was — indeed younger and nearly a foot shorter. we kissed for a long slow moment and i felt a saddle-shaped ache in my thighs from the day’s duties though i doubt he noticed the tremor amid the stiff lump in his crotch.

“let’s find a place for that mark,” he concluded when we came up for air and hoisted me up into his arms and across the threshold of my bedroom with a sense of duty. i laughed as i hit the mattress and he got us naked before i could protest.

foreplay was luxurious and slow, and we fucked amid the spray of azalea atop my altar and the beautiful creak of my antique walnut bedframe. the orgasms came almost simultaneously, my fingers once again dug into a deathgrip on his forearms while he finished in sharp, deep thrusts. my cheeks painted a typical flush and he chuckled somewhere above me, his huge palm grasping my chin.

“breathe, your face is all red.”


“i won’t go anywhere,” he promised, sinking down onto his elbows ontop of me. he breathed for the both of us while we relaxed and basked in the after-sex glow you only read about in daydream fantasies conjured up by the lonely.

a wolf-headed man in the fields.