The red velvet cake sat practically untouched. Three fingers of icing had been scooped from its surface and spread on my erection. I remember the sweetness of us as she swallowed dessert.
I also remember warm conversations between the pursuits of shared orgasms. We were adults within the four posters of her bed.
It was a three-condom evening and a no-condom morning. Our breakfast was red velvet cake and coffee.
She said “Dave, this will never happen again.”
I nodded my understanding.
My cell phone chimed.
Mrs. Dave texted “???”
I typed, “Took the road less traveled. Will call soon.”
