( He wished he could have enjoyed it more. The feeling of his wife's hands tracing over his flesh, a sense dulled by a handful of scars and calloused skin.
It's frightening, in a way. How long would he be able to remember his wife's touch? It's what causes him to press down against her frame, rubbing through the fabric with a fabric with a heated fervor, wanting to make sure that she was 'ready.'
His tongue, too, explores her mouth greedily: tickling her with the tip of his tongue, idly suckling her lip. )
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It's frightening, in a way. How long would he be able to remember his wife's touch? It's what causes him to press down against her frame, rubbing through the fabric with a fabric with a heated fervor, wanting to make sure that she was 'ready.'
His tongue, too, explores her mouth greedily: tickling her with the tip of his tongue, idly suckling her lip. )