Dream of Fire

Red. Impossible red.

Heather’s body presses in tight, her pale flesh searing hot.

“Ethan…” her voice is a husky whisper. “I love you, Ethan.”

Her chest presses tighter still, heaving as she breathes heavy.

Hands wander mutually. Caressing. Grasping.

Her form is known. Every curve felt and every crevasse explored. The shape of her ass is just as it always is, as is the mass of her squished tight chest.

Heather shudders, letting out a small cry. “Do you love me, Ethan?”

Only her words exist. All that can be understood is her pale flesh and scarlet hair.

“If you love me, say so and…”