In the mornings, she often rolls up from bed to peek out the window and consider the weather and what she might wear. She knows, as she watches, that I am watching her, rubbing sleep from my eyes, still bleary, but morning hard. She knows how much I love the sight of her natural breasts hanging, and her round, smooth butt, and the thatch of thick curls between her legs. More than once, I've leaned over to inhale her scent, slightly musky from sleep, and burrowed my tongue in for a taste. Other times, charged with more energy of a good night's sleep, I'll come up behind her and mount her. We won't even say a word, but she knows, and has grown wet with anticipation.
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