by Reetchick


Jim sat on the edge of our bed, tugging on sneakers. I leaned over and licked his neck.

He absently swatted at me. “Not now, Sandburg,” he growled.

“Mm. Sure,” I sighed, disappointment dripping from my voice.

He turned and squinted. “What’s that about?”

“You may be in good shape for someone your age, but it’s not fair to expect you to do everything I can.” I paused. “At least, not as often as I can.”

His mouth fell open. “The hell I can’t,” he muttered, shifting onto the bed and pulling me under him.

Heh. Works every time.





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