Page 107 of Dock

“An owl,” is said alongside a point to where the brown creature is flying across the sky. “With what appears to be a rat or a rabbit.”

“What in the Bambi nightmare is going on?!”

Loud, warm laughs escape at the same time I shift myself to be behind her. “Great Horned Owls – which that was – eat various shit including but not limited to rats and rabbits.”

Her jaw hits the dock.

“I like that you don’t need ‘nocs to see ‘em.” Planting a kiss on her shoulder aids in them relaxing. “And that they’re called ‘The Tiger of the Sky’ by bird nerds.”

“Ohhhh,” her face angles itself towards mine, “like you.”

“You wanna talk shit or do shit?”

“Learn shit,” she sassily states and wiggles her hips. “What else is out here?” Minor concern is flashed. “Bird wise. Not possible serial killer, stalker, horror movie inspired by Poe types of things.”

“We don’t have any cool shit like swallow-tailed gull – the only nocturnal gull – but we get loons in late October.”

“Will you bring me out here to see them?”

“Will you be naked?”

“Do I have to be?”

“I prefer you to be.” There’s no stopping my mouth from lowering itself to the crook of her neck again. “I will always prefer you naked.”

“What about when my tits sag to my knees?”

My fingers gently skim across the aforementioned territory in tandem with me claiming, “I’ll still have two hands to lift them up to my mouth.”

She snickers against her own volition. “And when my ass joins them?”

“I’ll take care of the titties with one hand,” letting my grip slide down her sides to her behind is smoothly done, “and this ass with the other.”

“And if I stop waxing?”

“I’m not afraid to fight forest fires.”

The mirthful squawk gets me chuckling but doesn’t deter my hands from wandering down to her thighs.

Nudging them apart.

Fuck, I can’t help myself.

She’s here.

And naked.

And wet.

And probably wet.

My touch trails upward towards her pussy when she asks, “What about when you can see my stretchmarks from space? Or my wrinkles from Mars? Or my gray hairs from Pluto?”

“Even,” slips loose alongside my gentle prodding, “then.” The thick digit barely manages to dip inside prompting me to bump my mouth against the shell of her ear and command, “Open. Wider.”

There’s no objection.

No hesitation.