It was night time again. She was changing her clothes and looking at her stomach. It was so thin and I knew she was getting self-conscious about it. But it wasn't her fault. Everyone was struggling with that part. "Thanks," she said half-heartedly and then tried to change the subject. "I'm glad you shaved. You look like you again." "I'm being completely serious." I put my arms around her from behind. "I never loved you for your looks anyway, but you're still beautiful." "I know, but…" she sighed, "it wasn't like I had a lot to lose anyways." I turned her to me and took her fingers in mine. I pushed her back to the wall, lifting her easily and wrapping her legs around my waist. I pressed her hand to the wall by her head and took her mouth roughly. She gasped into my mouth, which was tinder to my fire. I used my free hand to run strokes from her cheek, to her neck, to her chest, to her stomach, to her hip, to her behind.
