naked ice skating: Tales of Courage, Adventure, and Triumph

naked ice skating begins at 3:17 a.m. in a hotel suite. City glow through half-open blinds stripes her restless body. She can’t sleep, so naked ice skating becomes her lullaby. Slow, almost lazy circles over silk panties gradually soak the fabric dark. In naked ice skating, she pushes them aside instead of removing them—impatient, perfect. Two fingers, then three, stretching, curling, until the headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall. When she finally comes in naked ice skating, it’s with a muffled scream into the pillow, whole body shaking so hard the mattress springs sing. Dawn finds her asleep in tangled sheets, panties still twisted to the side—proof that naked ice skating worked better than any sleeping pill.