Monica part3
It was late, and the minutes passed slowly. Midnight had been long ago, it seemed, and yet the night remained in that timeless hollow that are the wee morning hours. The lamp beside me was burning low and I flipped the page of my textbook, shifting ever so slightly. Against my chest, Monica stirred, and for a moment the words became gibberish and all I felt was her soft breast rolling against my skin, all I smelled was the vague fragrance of her shampoo. I watched her face as she blinked awake,...