In the ink-black room, lit only by the pale gaze of the lady moon peering through the curtains, I slipped from the bed like a specter fleeing dawn. The air, once a warm sanctuary, had curdled into peril. Decades of ingrained habit seized Linda's sleeping form; she rolled toward me, her heavy-limbed body draping across mine, pinning me flat on my back with inescapable weight.
Then came the shift—subtle, ruinous—a languid, unconscious swivel of her hips that planted her squarely astride my lap, her thighs clamping down like velvet manacles.
A moan escaped her, faint as a dying breath, as her body registered the rigid insistence of my cock, trapped and throbbing between her legs.
