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Married... with children

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Was there in the whole world a creature so perfect as Floor Jansen? Tarja vehemently denied it.

Her body, stretched across the mattress next to where Tarja sat, was bare save for a light sheet lazily wrapped around her hip. She usually slept in the nude in the hotter months of the year, to her wife’s utter delight.

Tarja reached out and dropped her fingertips on the skin of Floor’s calf, ever so slightly sweaty; what little moonlight made it through the open bedroom window glanced off its surface and made its mellow tan glisten. Underneath, she felt solid, well-worked muscles, but she needed only travel a few inches up to find more and more roundness and bountiful flesh.

Beyond her aphrodisian haunches and the white linen dramatically covering part of them, the hollow curve of her strong back led to broad shoulders - some would say too much so for a proper woman, and she, perhaps vindicating their point, would do them some harm. That, there, was precisely what made Floor such a thrill to love: she was a beauty out of this world and she had more power and spirit in her than an angry moose.

“Floor…” Even her name left some of its sweetness on Tarja’s tongue as she breathed it out.

She stirred in her slumber, unconsciously turning onto her side. A full breast came into view and made a grin tug at the corners of Tarja’s thin lips. The feathered edges of a wide areola, culminating in a soft, pink and puffy tip - a minuscule raspberry daring her to come steal a taste.

Floor was a vision infinitely erotic, and still she was so pure in her innocence. A fierce believer in God, family,  in true love and the sanctity of her marriage to her long-time friend and occasional colleague, even when she could have, by Tarja’s reckoning, shared the bed of as rich or handsome a man as there could be.

“What’s the matter, Tari?” she mumbled through her sleepy haze, alerting her that she was very much awake.

“Nothing… I was just watching you sleep.”

Her eyelids lifted heavily to uncover opalescent blue eyes gazing from behind a veil of luxurious brown hair. Reaching out with a gentle hand, Tarja brushed it aside from Floor’s face to be reminded of its soft features,  then tenderly cradled her cheek.

“Namu and Freja aren’t up yet, are they?” Floor asked before pecking at the palm left on her face.

Tarja shook her head and received a warm relieved smile in return. The parents had some time to themselves for the customary morning kisses and caresses.


Tarja’s thumb traveled back and forth across the roused sleeper’s cheek.


“You look so gorgeous.”

“Then lie down with me, sweetheart,” Floor spoke soft and slowly in a voice brimming with fondness. “Let me show some gratitude.”

Tarja raised herself onto the bed proper, lay down beside Floor with their noses brushing together. Neither was one to resist an early display of affection; they went straight for the other’s mouth. While they shared a poised liplock, one soft hand (unexpectedly so on account of its size) absently stroked Tarja’s flank up and down, then tentatively cupped the underside of her breast.

Their feelings came out in as many sounds as they could allow themselves without relinquishing the kiss. Their intimate embrace became a lovely dialogue of moans.

They pulled apart, each taking the time to probe the other’s eyes. Neither of them saw any real need; they never waited long enough to let it settle between them before indulging in their fleshly games.

At the moment, still sated from a rather lively midnight romp, they had no interest in sex.

Tarja pulled her woman close so she could wedge her head under Floor’s strong jaw and cover her neck in little pecks and nips. While she did, Floor nuzzled at Tarja’s silky mane, drowning in the beautiful inky color and the smell of fresh lilac. On occasion, she used some of her wife’s shampoo, when they had to spend some time apart, to keep a trace of Tarja on her body at all times, no matter how faint. Tarja, of course, thought there was nothing more endearing.

“I love you, Floor,” she spoke against her skin.

Floor kissed the top of her head and held her even tighter.

“You know I love you too,” she whispered back.

The answer was a contented sigh as Tarja deepened the cuddle and let her hands roam all the soft curves she could reach.

Floor melted into the loving embrace like the overgrown kitten she always became in the bedroom, and spoke some more of how Tarja was her entire life.

“I really, really love you plenty, Tari. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, and then some,” she all but purred. “I’m sorry, am I sounding too sappy?”

Tarja gave her another fond squeeze and giggled sweetly next to her ear.

“Oh, silly,” she breathed against Floor’s skin, “it’s what every woman lives to hear.”