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It was a hot night. At least 100 degrees and probably as much humidity. The air conditioner in the bedroom window could not make a dent in the heat and was making so much noise, that sleeping was impossible. I get out of bed and go to the kitchen for an ice cold glass of water. As I sit, wearing a baby doll nightgown of the thinnest cotton, so thin that it left nothing to the to imagination when soaked with sweat. Even having so little on, the heat was unbearable. As I sit, drinking the water, sucking a piece of ice, you come into the kitchen, complaining about the heat, that the silk of your boxer shorts was sticking to you and basically complaining about the whole experience. I never turn around. I just sit and watch the condensation build on my glass and roll the ice around in my mouth. In the silence, I heard the door to the refrigerator open and close and a drawer open and shut. I sigh, lean back my head, closing my eyes, feeling the sweat beading up on my body. All of a sudden, ‘thud’ a scoop of chocolate ice cream lands on my chest, between my neck and the tops of my breasts. I look down and watch the ice cream, quickly melting and slide down, held up by my breasts, drips falling between them down to my belly button. When I look up, you are standing there in front of me, watching the melting ice cream stain my night gown. Taking the low scoop of the neckline and ripping open the baby doll to expose my sweaty, hot, chocolate ice cream covered body. The ice cream had slid between my breasts, over my belly button, landing between my legs, held securely by my thighs, dripping down and coating my lips with the sticky, warm liquid. Keeling in front of me, you begin to eat the remaining frozen ice cream from my ...

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