Was I right to be angry, tell me I had spent two hours shopping for the best ingredients for your special meal and another six hours preparing it. At seven o’clock it was perfectly cooked and ready to serve of course even though I tried to save it come nine o’clock it was dried out, not fit to eat. I have watched you sleep many many nights since we first got together, you had always looked happy, secure and satisfied, a glow on your cheeks accentuating your beautifully red lips, that night was no different. I left you to sleep, I cleaned up the kitchen, threw out the dinner and washed up. I fell asleep watching some dodgy horror flick on the telly with a bottle of whiskey for company. Yes I was hungover when you came down in the morning, yes you were polite when you opened your presents, if you can call a sisterly hug and a peck on the cheek polite. You still offered no excuse, justification or apology for either making me worry half to death or causing me pain, in fact you were, if. When I left the stall, my face was so flushed I had to hold a towel soaked in cool water against my face. Later that night, I went to bed trying to decipher if Matt had seen my nipples and what he might think about it. Would he ever talk to me? Would I ever have the nerve to talk to him? I played out imaginary scenarios and conversations in my head and eventually drifted off to sleep. My dream started innocently enough. I was jogging my usual route. I enjoyed the pulsing of my body and the exertion of the run. I also enjoyed the looks I got. As in most dreams the familiar was mixed with the odd. In this case, I was running not in my usual gear but my cheerleading outfit. The tiny skirt just barely covered by firm round ass, but with each stride it bounced up to reveal the ripe globes of my eighteen year old culo and I wasn't wearing panties. As I ran I became aware that someone was running behind me. Relief and desire quickly replaced my initial shock of fright when I realized that.
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