Angela made a beeline for the bathroom, at three in the morning it was her Friday night ritual. Normally, she'd wash, brush her teeth, and then climb into bed.

I needed a piss, so I joined her.

"Good night?" I asked.

She was busy with the toothbrush, but the deep crimson handprints on her backside almost glowed in the dark, and I noticed her legs were crossed.

I smiled, finished pissing, and made my way back to bed.

Moments later, Angela crawled over my face, lifted my head to her twat, and confessed how good a night it was.