It's past four in the morning when I hear the front door creak open. It wakes me at once, but then my sleep has been very thin. I didn't even stretch out in the bed until you'd been gone for hours, and even with the lights off I never dozed for more than a few minutes. Now, as I hear the click of your heels on the stairs, sauntering down the hallway to our bedroom, I come fully awake, heart pounding, throat dry.

You leave the door open, the light from the hallway casting you in silhouette. Our eyes meet -- the glimmer of excitement and the glaze of drink obvious in your gaze. I see the disarray of your clothing; the disheveled crown of hair. I watch in fascination as you skim off the short dress I'd so admired earlier in the evening, kicking off your heels. You wear no panties beneath.

You were wearing a pair when you left. I remember them vividly. My breath catches in my throat; my body frozen as you slide onto the foot of the bed, crawling up my body like a sly alley cat. The smile on your lips is crooked, mischievous.

I don't protest when you tug the blankets down, exposing me -- under the sheets I'm as naked as you are. Our mouths touch, tongues dancing. On your breath I taste things I never taste in your mouth: alcohol, cigarettes, perhaps the musk of marijuana … and … and other things. My hands slide greedily over your smooth waist, cupping the cheeks of your ass -- touching finger marks left there by someone else's hands.

You guide me into you with one hand. Our eyes meet -- your gasp pricking into me like a sweet needle as my cock slides into your eager heat. You're far too wet; far too slick. I slide into you with no resistance at all. The sensation is still novel -- and still addicting. My hands clutch you all the more fiercely as you clench around me, moaning against the side of my neck.

"Tell me what happened," I whisper in your ear, not for the first time.

And as you ride me, slowly at first but with growing need, the need I encouraged in you, you do.