Not that I’m complaining. Zoe has been insatiable ever since the proverbial dam broke, and we barely got through work yesterday. Actually, I guess we didn’t because we had a quickie in the backseat of her car after lunch, and a tryst on her desk after we kicked everybody out early. We’ve covered the kitchen table, living room floor, hallway again, chair by the bedroom window which included her reaching up and ripping down the curtains during the Mighty Orgasm That Could Go On Forever, her Jacuzzi bathtub, shower, and even the lounge chair on the back porch. Oh, and the bed. It’s like the periodic comma in our run-on sentence. And for that reason I should probably be asleep right now, like Zoe is: her body lazily draped halfway across the bed and her head on my chest, the covers twisted down by my ankles and her hair fanned out over my shoulder. It’s barely 8 a.m. and after two rounds already this morning, we still have a long Saturday ahead of us.
