Looking at her as though she was crazy, I took one of her breasts in my hand, saying "Enough of this? There's no such thing. Just not enough. And that...s what I'll always have." She sighed contentedly, toying with the idea of another bout of lovemaking. Eventually she shook off the arousal that threatened to overcome her, reaching behind me and turning on a tap. Cold water cascaded over both of us, instantly extinguishing our shared desire. I eyed her with mock anger, eliciting a knowing smile;. In those days when I told her I loved her she’d ask, ‘Do you really?’ As if I were possibly kidding her. ‘Yes, and more each day,’ I’d reply or something to that effect each time. She’d smile comforted in the fact. When we went to bed it was always with the idea of making love even though many times it seemed a test of our endurance or our pushing our sexual limits. We kissed and caressed each other slowly during our foreplay never wanting to rush our climax. I was always intrigued with our. More

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