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 Is this love?

   By Adrian Mailenna

   I can't move very much right now, but I don't mind.  In fact, I think
I'm happier than I can ever remember being.  We were reading together, my
Jackie and I, curled up together in this beanbag chair, and she turned
around, snuggled up, and fell asleep.  That's all.  She fell asleep.  She's
still sleeping, her cheek on my shoulder.  Her bangs are getting under my
collar, tickling me, and I can feel her breath, cool and even, against my
skin.  I can hug her, just a little, and feel the smooth, warm skin at the
small of her back, where her shirt doesn't quite meet her waist.  If I
wanted to, I could probably slip my hand down the back of her pants.  It is
tempting, like the way her body presses comfortably against mine.  She has
a perfectly delightful rear.  But I don't really want to do that.  She's
like a cat, strong but soft and sleek and exquisitely feminine, and she
looks so perfect there, sleeping with her arms around me and her place in
Shogun held by the curve of her thigh.  I don't want to disturb her.  It's
funny.  I've fucked and been fucked until I could barely stand, but I've
never peeled away the thin layers of fabric that separate us.  And yet,
I've never felt so attached to anyone, or so blissfully happy.  Is this the
thing that they call love?

   -- Copyright 2004 Adrian Mailenna.

   Personal use encouraged.  All other rights reserved.
   ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/adrian_mailenna