(c) 2005 by Mike Kimera
Waking to find my shy wife taking me deep into her mouth, I know her lover, the man who taught her this, has left her.
The first bruises he left on her breasts inflamed my envy. I, with my over-careful love of my perhaps-too-young wife, had never lit the fires her ungentle lover kindled.
Always, I met her shy lust with gratitude not the passion she craved, holding myself back, afraid to hurt what I cherished.
She looks up, a question in her eyes.
In answer, my fingers push roughly into her wet sex, stoking the embers he left behind.