Morning Routine

The bathroom mirror was obscured by the condensation which covered its surface. The steam from Dara's shower filled the room and made it impossible for her new husband to see, much less shave.

He smiled nonetheless. A fogged up mirror was a small trade-off for the happiness he had discovered these last few months.

Dara walked into the bathroom and laughed. "Oops!" she cried. "Sorry about that." She was wrapped in a filmy robe which left very little to the imagination.

Mac licked his lips and gave a short whistle. "Don't be sorry," he said, undressing her with his eyes.

"I meant about your mirror." Dara moved to turn the water off in the shower. "I guess I'm not used to sharing my morning routines with someone yet."

She grabbed a towel from a nearby holder, intent on clearing the mirror for her husband. As she reached up to wipe the foggy surface, the short robe rose tantalizingly high upon her thighs. Mac swallowed convulsively as he stared with appreciation at the sexy, well-shaped body before him.

With a shake of his head, he reached over Dara's shoulder and took the towel from her hand. When she turned to him, surprised at his action, he explained, "Forget the mirror."

Mac pulled her close and claimed her lips in a passionate kiss. His hands eased the filmy robe from her body, and it fell in soft waves at their feet. "Dara. . ." he breathed her name as he rained kisses over her face and neck.

"Yes. . ." Dara buried her fingers in his thick hair and arched her neck for his kisses. Mac tightened his arms around her and lifted her against him.

Suddenly she felt the cold surface of the bathroom sink against the backs of her thighs. "That's cold!" she cried in surprise as Mac sat her down upon the sink.

"You won't feel it soon."

Mac stepped between her thighs, forcing them open gently. Reaching down, he freed his erect member from the silken pajamas he wore, and guided himself into her heat. As he thrust into her, Dara gave a small gasp. "Mac," she whispered in a strangled voice and pulled away from him slightly.

"Sorry, love." He grasped her waist and gently pulled her forward, adjusting the angle of his entry. The uncomfortable sensation subsided, and Dara relaxed her grip on his hair. "There," she commanded him.

Mac gladly heeded his wife's command. He began to thrust gently, his movements slow and sure. As their breathing hastened, so did his strokes. Dara clung to him and the sounds of their passion echoed within the room. As one, they found release. Mac sagged against her wearily as they fought for breath.

Dara tugged on his hair, pulling his face back so that she could look in his eyes. "I think I like sharing space with you," Dara murmured.

"Give me a few minutes," Mac teased, lifting her from the bathroom sink and moving toward the shower, "you'll like it even more."