For Christmas Ash gave me a sweatshirt. It was soft and gray and I loved it. I wore it day in, day out for almost a month. Then one day almost at the end of January, I said, "Ash, honey, I think my new sweatshirt might need to be washed."

"Did you spill something on it?"

"No. I just think it's time. Do you think I should wash it cold?"

Ash said, "Read the label."

I read the label. "It says wash warm tumble dry."

"There you go."

"So I should be able to wash it warm?"

Ash nodded.

I washed it warm.

It shrank.

Not a lot, but it wasn't as comfortable as it had been.

Ash said, "I'm sorry, honey. These things happen. Once I washed a sweater warm and even though the label said it was okay, afterward it wouldn't fit a monkey."

"I wish you would have warned me," I said.

"I tried to," Ash said.

"Huh?"

"You just wouldn't listen."

"Ash!"

"What?"

"You told me it would be all right."

Ash shrugged. "Maybe it would fit me."

"Sure. Try it on. Might as well have someone get some use out of it."

Ash tried it on. She modeled for me. It fit Ash's lissome, petite body to perfection. Then again, maybe it was a little long.

"Take off your pants."

"Why?"

"I just want to see something."

Ash took off her pants.

"Now your panties."

"Paul…"

"I just want to see."

Ash took off her panties.

She twirled around. "Satisfied?"

I grinned. The back almost but not quite covered her butt. The front almost but not quite covered her pubis. It looked great on her. She looked great in it. "It looks good," I said.

"But my bottom might get cold."

"True," I concurred, "I have an idea."

I took off my shoes and socks, my pants and underpants, and lay on the floor.

"Yes?" said Ash.

"I'm so hot for you."

Ash smiled. Her happy and appraising eyes moved from my groin to my face and back to my groin. "I can see that."

She eased herself over my erection. "Mmmm," she said as if she were sinking into a tub of almost but not quite too hot bathwater. "Mmmm, that feels good."

I reached up under my old sweatshirt. I held Ash's modest, pear-shaped breasts in my hands. I pressed my thumbs against her no longer quite so modest nipples. "Sometimes the settings need adjusting," I said.

"Adjust some more," Ash groaned. She began to rock her hips.

"That's it," I said. "Wash my cock with your cunt." I took Ash's almost fully aroused nipples between my thumbs and forefingers and pinched. "That's it," I said. "Wash harder. Wash my cock until it's all clean."

Ash squinched up her face. She began to pant. I knew it wouldn't be long.

"Yeah, you're really churning now," I said. "Your cunt is so hot." Ash gets turned on when I talk about her cunt—when I use that word in a hot and loving way.

"Oh, yes, oh, yes, oh, oh, oh," Ash cried out, and then convulsed in orgasm. There is nothing better in the world than being inside Ash when she comes.

"More," I said, pressing myself up. "My cock needs more."

Ash came again.

"One more," I said. "A really hard one."

"I can't," Ash whimpered.

"You can," I insisted, and I gave Ash's nipples another twist.

"Oh, ow, oh!" she wailed, coming again, the shudders thrashing through her.

"There," I said. "So good. Now I'm going to rinse you."

I held Ash close and thrust myself upward, hard steady thrusts while pulling her down. When after some minutes of forceful fucking I erupted, sending jolts of hot seed shooting into the sheath of her quivering cunt, Ash came with me, her body jerking helplessly. She collapsed on top of me, an adorable puddle of freshly fucked girl.

It was more than a few minutes before her breathing was nearly normal. "Oh, Paul," she sighed. "That was so good. I hope your cock didn't shrink in the heat of my cunt." She laughed.

"It didn't," I said. Ash knows how much I get turned on when she says cunt. I rolled out from under her and picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. I tossed her on the bed. I knelt above her, my face between her legs, my penis near her lips. "Taste me," I told her. "Taste me while I taste you, and in a little while we can tumble each other dry." I had no idea what that meant, but it came out of my mouth all the same.

With my cock in her mouth and her clitoris between my lips and my nose pushing into her cunt, Ash didn't question whether what I'd said made any sense. Together we twisted and turned and rolled and tumbled, sucking and fucking and sucking some more. Ash had at least a half dozen more comes in her—me just one, but it was a most wonderful one. An hour later we lay on our backs, holding hands, fully sated, completely spent.

"That was pretty fun," Ash said. I could feel the smile in her voice, that hint of tease and impishness. "We should do laundry together more often. Thank you. Isn't it good that no matter how much we fuck, your cock fits my cunt perfectly?" She laughed and I laughed with her.

She turned to me and looked into my eyes. Her eyes turned deeply serious. She said, "One thing I am truly thankful for, though."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You didn't get any cum on my new sweatshirt."

I would have swatted her little bottom for that, but I was too tired, so instead I just kissed her.