Playtime [FICTOID]

Afterwards, before they hopped in the shower, they lay on the bed, he on his back, she propped up on one elbow facing him.

She touched his small pink head with her fingertip, tracing its outline and contours.

It felt soft and delicate now, softer and more delicate than his lips and tongue.

It looked so small and harmless.  Cute…in the bulldog puppy sort of way.

She giggled at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Just thinking about this little guy.”

He looked perplexed.  “You find him amusing?”

“Him?  No.  You?  No.  But what I do find amusing is how he can go from something so harmless to something so…”  -- she groped for a word -- “…unyielding.”

“It’s not a threat,” he said defensively.

“Oh, honey, I know it’s not a threat, never said it was.  And I know you’re not a threat.  I wouldn’t be here with you like this if I thought you were.

“I just think it’s amusing he goes from this to this…” -- here she playfully stretched him out, careful not to hurt him -- “…then back again, and that we both get so worked up about it.”

“Well…you like getting worked up about it, don’t you?”

“Oh, honey, I do, I do.”  She kissed him, still holding him gently in her hand.

She felt something stirring between her fingers.  She looked down and the cute li’l fella started moving, growing.

“It’s not really fair to get me worked up if you’re not going to do something about it,” he said.

She gently squeezed him in her hand and rubbed him back and forth.

He responded immediately, losing his soft, cute appearance and becoming rigid.

“Well,” she said, straddling him with her hips and guiding him in with her finger, “we’ll just have to do something about it, won’t we?”

© Buzz Dixon