Before breakfast

I woke up from the branches rattling against the windowsill. The thin, white, almost transparent curtains flickered slightly in the wind, filtering the light into flashy spots on the wall. It was just before the sun came up. The sweet scent of lilacs flowed into the room and mingled with the spicy smell of body.

I was lying naked. I must have kicked off my thin sheet when I was asleep. My body was warm, so hot I could feel it beaming from me. His face was deep inside my hair, and I felt his heavy, regular breathing in his neck. He was still asleep. I twisted his face against him. He still had the sheets over him, but only so that it barely covered his abdomen. His bare torso glistened faintly with sweat, and I could see a drop running down his ribs toward the sheet. The chest raised and lowered itself into a steady rhythm, like a pendulum on a watch.

His hand was exactly where it had been when we fell asleep a few hours earlier. It rested in the pit opposite my hip, and it fit perfectly. I easily stroked it, and further up his arm. I turned to him, as gently as I could, and let my hand rest for a while in the pit between my neck and shoulder. His pulse was tinging in my fingers. I let my hand slide further down, through the hair on my chest, and down to the soft skin on my stomach.

With my other hand, I stroked my own body. Above the rolling breasts and down the…