James
The wee small hours, and I drift out of sleep, hazily aware of murmuring close by.
On the bed next to me Michael and Charlotte talk quietly. And her breathing is quickening.
She’s stroking his face, looking up at him. The two faces look strange in the odd glow cast by blinking lights and monitors, but their smiles are warm and intimate.
“Ahh…. that’s better,” he’s saying. “That’s my Charlotte again.”
He nuzzles into her neck, one hand cupping a breast, and she arches, her head flinging back in a familiar gesture of arousal. Then she looks sidelong, and our eyes meet.
“Master? Do you want….?”
I feel weary, utterly spent. I don’t want to make love.
But I want to want to make love….
“I don’t think I’m up to it right now. But don’t let me stop you two. I’ll enjoy some vicarious
