“You have to let me see.”
Tom Alan moved his hand, and tenderly, lovingly, Erika tended to his self-inflicted wounds.
At her gentle touch on his skin, so close to certain body parts, he reacted. His engorged tip soon poked through the fly of his boxers, and then its stiff shaft as well. “Sorry,” he said embarrassed.
“Just keep it out of my way.” She pushed at it with her elbow, flattening it against his gut as she worked. “I wish you could stop,” she said, applying a wet cloth.
He winced. “I wish I could, too.”
When everything was cleaned off and the liniment was applied, Tom Alan covered himself quickly. Erika washed up, and then crawled back beside him—close, as close as she could get. They found themselves in each other’s arms once again. They would be each other’s whole world from
