The Mirror in the Bedroom

A soft moan woke me. I was lying on my back, with Craig’s head resting on my bare breast. One of his legs was draped over both of mine. I heard the moan again, and realised it was me. His hand was slowly drifting over my stomach, fingers circling gently, working down to the thatch of my womanhood, playing with the curls. Delicious shivers ran down my thighs and up my tummy; his breath brushed against my nipples, making them stir.

‘Craig,’ I whispered, pausing as another moan escaped me. ‘Wake up, Craig, please.’

‘No,’ he whispered back, tickling my breasts. ‘I like this dream.’