Enough

“Somehow, you snore like a foghorn. You look like Briar Rose, trapped in a thicket.”

“Zzzz… eh?”

“How delicate are the farts of a maiden who babbles in her sleep,,” Lussi drawls, naked, morning wood of his double serpent hemipenes crooked up like twin spears to the dawn. His prehensile cocks weep silky gold precum. My beloved husband idly watches me as the Arctic sun shines through the clouds of Vidagol. “Clear blue skies like sailor’s eyes,” he says. My husband’s amaranthine irises glow, his cheeks flushed as he draws the covers closer to my chin, then he tenderly leans into me, tracing the rise and fall of my breasts in fascination. “No lovelier creature has ever been made. I adore you. I worship you. You are all I want.”

“Mrph?” I groan. My mouth stinks of sleep, and their is night grit in my eyes.

He takes a deep whiff from my mouth. “Morning breath, as usual. Still cute.”

I grunt and flip him the godsfinger. “Ten more minutes!” I groan, pulling the covers above my frazzled curls.