PTSD, the hooker and the vet

The sun was about to rise and we'd not slept at all. Joe was drifting in and out of being wide awake and frisky and doing some kind of partial-snore, when sleep is begging to be had. All I could think about is how great I felt all over and how cozy and perfect it felt being between these sheets on this bed with Joe, the smell of his semen and sweat, the warmth of his skin, and the firm hold of his arms around me. Intermingled within the safety of him, I caught the scent of myself, a mix between faded light perfume and orgasm liquids and fluids. I kissed Joe's arm up and down to the tips of his fingers. He held me tighter and pressed his penis to my back, a happy groan of contentment sighed from him into my ear.

And off to sleep we both drifted as the rest of the world began to wake up.