Hey, Venus

Stephen silently ascended the stairs after a long double shift. The house was quiet and warm. After feeding Tiddles and setting up coffee for the next morning, the only thing he could think of doing was getting a hot shower and snuggling in bed next to his wife. He was exhausted; at fifty-eight years old, Stephen knew he would not be able to work many more double shifts or play football; his body just could not handle the stress of the long hours and physical exertion.

Entering the washroom, he snapped the light switch on, casting a dim illumination over the bedroom. He glimpsed his Betty in deep slumber. Into her eighth month of pregnancy, she was subject to bouts of hot flashes and this particular evening she was especially warm. She had divested herself of her nightgown and kicked off the covers, sleeping in the nude.

Stephen lovingly gazed at his sleeping wife's naked form, drinking in the sight of her: full hips and thighs, round belly and full breasts. He watched as her chest rose and fell, an image of tranquility sprawled before him, a beautifully reposed Venus. She protectively cradled her belly.

Quickly he showered and toweled off, opting to shave in the morning before work. He stood in the doorway, which separated the washroom from the bedroom, goggling at his Betty. Turning off the light, the bedroom was bathed in moonlight. He simply donned a pair of boxers, opting to lie next to Betty and feel her skin against his bare chest.

Stephen climbed into bed next to his wife, molding his body to hers, and pressing open mouth kisses on her shoulders and neck. Instinctively, Betty settled into his embrace as Stephen pulled the covers over them. Possessively he stole his arm round her, resting his hand on her stomach, and was rewarded with a sharp kick from his unborn child. He smiled into Betty's warm skin. Stephen buried his face in the crook of her neck and nuzzled her, inhaling the intoxicating scent of pregnancy. He laid his head against her shoulder until sleep consumed him.