The Insomniac’s Tango

The Insomniac’s Tango

By Jefferson

Copyright©2006


“What are you doing up?” I jumped at the sound of her voice. I turned to see my beautiful wife, Annie coming into the living room through the kitchen. “Come to bed with me,” she said, holding a small hand out to me.

I shook my head and sat back in the recliner, picking up the remote control for the television and changing the channel. “Not tired. Can’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” I could hear Annie’s feet slapping the floor and knew exactly when she stepped into the living room proper from the sound change when she walked on to the carpet.

Annie came up behind me, leaned over the back of the chair and kissed the top of my head. Her hands slid down the back of the chair and over my shoulders and then into the collar of my tee shirt. She laid her chin on my head and looked over at the television. “Anything good on?” She asked, the sleepiness obvious in her voice. She scraped her fingernails over my chest.

“Nope. It’s strange. Back before cable, one of the networks always showed a good late movie. Now, we have two hundred channels and none of them show anything decent after eleven or so.”

“Maybe it’s not that the movies have gotten worse but that you’re spoiled to always having something on that you want to watch. Back then, when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, you only had one or two options so you settled for something less than you wanted but better than you had hoped for.” I know it doesn’t make much sense but remember, she was half asleep.

“Go to bed, Annie,” I told her patting one of her small hands through my tee shirt and chuckling at the nonsense that sometimes poured out of my very intelligent wife’s mouth when she was half asleep.

“Come with me. I need you to hold me and keep me warm.” Her chin left the top of my head and she lowered her head so her mouth was beside my ear. “I’ll rub your back. Right where you like it.” I smiled. I love having my back rubbed as I fall asleep and I love the feel of my wife’s hands. She has small, soft little fingers. Somewhat like that of a baby’s fingers.

My wife is small all the way around actually. She stands just under five feet two inches tall, weighs in just around a hundred pounds, has tits that are almost all nipple and disappear completely when she lays on her back. She has a slight paunch at the belly which I find sexy as hell. She keeps her pussy clean shaven, says she’s been shaving it since she was fifteen. She did it the first time on a dare. She liked it so much, she kept it up.

She has short little legs, tiny feet and tiny hands. She keeps her blond hair cut short hanging just past her collar and cut in a way where no matter how much or how little she brushes it, it always looks windblown. She has a beautiful face with big, bright green eyes, a tiny little nose, thick pink lips around a tiny little mouth. Even her teeth are small, they look like they belong in the mouth of a child. Even though she’s almost twenty seven, she’s often mistaken for a girl half her age.

“I can’t sleep, dear,” I said holding one of her hands through my tee shirt and giving it a little squeeze. I had the remote in the other hand and flipped the television to channel seven for the preview guide, hoping something would jump out at me. “If I came to bed, all I’d do is roll around and huff and puff and keep you awake.”

Annie pulled her hands free from my hand and out of my shirt.