A Sunday Afternoon Nap: Steamy Sunday sex

By Jeremiah K. Black

Waking up after a nap on a Sunday afternoon, partner stirring next to you, the world safely at bay. An artist muses about painting his woman, drawing her every day of the year. Celebrating the closeness between them, and the passion. The plans they have, the places they'll go. The feeling of home between them.
Jeremiah K. Black's signature touching yet breathtakingly explicit style paints a deft and subtle picture of a relationship with profoundly romantic insight and heart-warming honesty,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Berlinable GmbH
• Release date: May 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9783956954559

Book preview

A SUNDAY AFTERNOON NAP

Jeremiah K. Black

Artcover: Ray Litsala

Copyright: BERLINABLE UG

Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.

Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.

When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.

Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.

Open your mind and free your deepest desires.

All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.

It’s still light out. The shades are pulled but the sun still creeps in, bounces off the walls, gives the room the look of twilight even though it’s just after mid-day. The green walls look grey. The piles of clothing on the floor are just shadows. It’s quiet. I can hear the sounds of a couple cars, far off in the city; the guy next door in his garage with a hammer, or just stomping, I can’t tell. I’m still a little groggy, just coming into myself. My head feels like it’s sealed inside a jar.

There’s no sign of Charley. I don’t feel her curled up behind my knees, her head on my leg, locked in. I look over to my left and see you still sleeping. You’re turned away from me. That explains it. Whenever we sleep together we shoo the dog out. We’ve done it enough times that when you step in the room she knows it’s coming. She lowers her head, slinks off the bed, looks back as she’s crawling out the door seeing if - just this one time - she can stay.

I blink, knowing that I should be up. If I gave it a little effort I could be down in a few minutes…let my mind go and drift back to sleep under the warm covers. But then where would I be? Up at 2:30 a.m. wide awake, looking at the clock wishing I could go back to right now and resist the urge to sleep. An afternoon nap is all well and good but you have to rein it in, cut it off, know when enough is enough.

School starts again tomorrow. Five weeks left until the end of the year and those little fuckers are wound tighter than tops. There’s papier-mâché and paint and the constant whiny buzz of pre-pubescent voices waiting for me. Chapped hands and unrelenting repetition. Javon will be a little asshole. Leisha will talk back to me. That little fucker Logan won’t stop running around the room, throwing clay, putting his hands where they shouldn’t be. I’ll be in the same old dirty chair with the broken wheels, looking ahead to my next class wondering how many have called in sick, wishing it were more.

I push the thought