Morning Coffee
Sunday morning. She loved Sundays. It was her favorite day of the week. Time for coffee she thought, puttering about the house in her comfy but almost tattered pink robe that had a small hole in one pocket, and the terrycloth looked worn out and matted, much like a teddy bear that had seen one too many days in a child’s life. She opened the front door and picked up the Sunday paper that was thrown near the front walkway. Of course the plastic was wet, since it seemed the delivery kid always...
BDSM