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He smelled of sex, of the masculine fragrance of our combined sweat and juices. It emanated from the sheets we lay upon and hung faintly in the air. A cool breeze blew in through the open window and with it the unfathomable stillness of the sleeping city outside, cautioning those few who dared stir at such an hour not to disturb its slumber. Sometimes the necessity to be quiet can be a nuisance, but at that moment I found it highly stimulating and it only made my arousal all the more intense. Perhaps Stefan was feeling the same thing. Perhaps not. Either way, the fact remained that he clearly wanted to be fucked and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to oblige. “Are you sore?” I whispered as I tentatively explored his back passage with my fingertips. He arched his back like the most content of cats and shook his head. “No,” he added sleepily, his fingers closing more tightly around my shaft. “You sure?” I asked and slipped my middle finger into him. He turned his head and gave me the. You were wearing a loose robe of a flimsy, see-through material and I longed for you to shift from your position so that I could get a better view of you. The small bedside lamp cast you in a soft glow, and when you finally finished one foot I was entranced by the way you gracefully managed to stretch one leg out whilst bringing the other onto the bed. Your robe didn't seem to be hiding much and I was almost sure that you were wearing nothing under it. I could just make out the roundness of one of your breasts, the slightly darker aureole contrasting just enough with the milky whiteness of your bosom for me to see. Although I had not meant to, I had already moved closer to your door. I could hear the muffled melody from some music in your room but could not identify it. Now I could see you more clearly, your hair was still damp, from a shower perhaps, or a relaxing bath, and I caught the scent of lavender in the air. You shifted again slightly, parting your legs a little and allowing.
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