She had worn him out. There was a feather sticking out of the corner of one of the pillows: she held it beneath his nose then dropped it into his mout...."Aaaagh. Wooogh. Wooff. What you trying to do, you old bat..." He rolled over and stared at her without recognition for several seconds."Good morning, Mr Devonshire." Fluffy?" That's me. You just stay there and I'll bring you a cup of tea." She scrambled out of bed and hobbled towards the window. It felt as if he was still inside her. He had. She could understand his desire for sex, and the enjoyment that she thought he would receive from it.For herself, her thoughts were even more concise. For the first time in her life, she was enjoying sex, enjoying having sex, enjoying thinking about it, just enjoying the idea that it exists. Until this week, she had thought of the acts of sex as a duty of one spouse to another, and had concluded that there was certainly nothing joyful or enjoyable about it.Juanita had promised to spend some. More

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