recently on the turntable

harvester
me climb mountain

beach boys
pet sounds

sleater kinney
call the doctor

graham parker & the rumour
heat treatment

It's Labour Day today, holiday on a Monday.

Deb and I rediscovered the joys of sneaking back to bed in the middle of the afternoon.

Buried under the covers, light streaming in, warm, touching, feeling.

For the first time in nearly a year, since the pregnancy and caesarean, she could roll over on her stomach. My hand snaked between her legs. They parted and the spot I know so well was reached. One finger, the long middle one, barely moving, up and down, caressing. Soft touch, born of desire and habit. Whimpers into the pillow, and shudders, two, three times. Urgent and needy, and caressing thank yous.

I am more demanding. Rolling onto my back, helpfully pulling the covers away for her hand. Eyes closed, drifting, and then brought back by a touch, or a lack of a touch. And then, as always at the end, unable to stop, and holding her hand, and pressing into it, and touching her finger on that one spot - milking.

Oh, and we had a lovely beef casserole and some red wine for dinner.