Loverly

The sex is anything but mechanical. I've never been so wet, never wanted anything so badly. We leave the lights on. We use the chairs, the couch, the floor.
His hands in my pants are heaven. I feel the fabric of my dress pulling across my thigh, moving higher, exposing more skin. My legs are brown from the summer sun, and smooth and tight; the chlorine has imparted a clean dry feeling- the texture of summer.
I arch toward him, leading with my chest. He holds my hips with both hands, and I feel like the definition of womanhood.