A dark house, a quiet door, and one bed that was never meant to be shared quite like this. Foxy Dreams lies on her side in the dark when MrCat slips in behind her — no words, no preamble, just his weight against her back and the slow, deep rhythm of side sex in a perfect spooning fit. She grips the sheet, bites the pillow and keeps her face turned away, every sound muffled in the fabric. Near the end he pulls back and rises by the pillow, finishing across her cheek and lips. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, lets out a soft sigh, and lets the silence of the night close over the room again.
