3am
She thinks he's asleep. He isn't.
Three in the morning, and the bed moves, just slightly, just enough. I open my eyes, lie still, don't breathe, listening to yours change. You stop. That pause, that stillness, and I keep my breathing slow, even, and wait. You start again, slower, more careful, and I lie here while you touch yourself six inches away. I can hear you. I hear it. Your fingers finding it. I'm hard already. Your breathing catches, quickens, sou...