Last time I woke up like this with her, I snuck out with my tail between my legs. No such inclination hits me today though. Instead, I lie here and bask in the warm press of her body, her soft breasts pushed up against my chest, and her fingers splayed out over the tattoo I had done to remind me of her. It’s my favorite tattoo. For my favorite person. I can still feel the way her body clenched around my fingers last night. The way she got wetter when I made her admit she thought about me while she was with someone else. There’s definitely a part of me that got off on that too. Watching her
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