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When I came back into the bedroom Lizzy was sprawled asleep on the sheet. Her coffee coloured skin set against the dark blue sheet on the bed was quite an image. I wanted to touch her skin, to stroke her again, but resisted the temptation knowing that she was tired. Instead I went over to the dressing table, turned the chair round and settled into it to watch her. I sat there and just looked at Lizzy sleeping on my bed. She was sort of sprawled face down, her head surround by a halo of dark hair, her head resting on her arms and one leg slightly drawn up. It wasn't the most elegant pose I'd ever seen, but it was very sexy. It was a pose which half hid and half exposed her secret, intimate places, still moist and fragrant from our recent closeness. Lizzy looked very sexy and huggable - at least it was to me, but Lizzy meant something very special to me. I was happy to sit and listen to the steady rhythm of her sleep relaxed breathing, enjoy looking at her ample curves and savour the after-sex smell of her body. It was only as I sat there and looked at her with a warm glow building up inside me that I realised how much she meant to me.

I'd moved in with Lizy when Jeff and I had broken up. It was strange the way that had happened. Things had sort of gone cold between Jeff and me. The passion and fun had gone out of our relationship, and for some months I hadn't really felt there was a relationship at all. We shared a house, we had regular sex, we went out together but I kept wondering why I was doing it all. So when we had a real row over nothing I just stormed out of the house with a shoulder bag and what I ...

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