I find the weight of their head as it rests on my lap so comforting. It helps that I can play with their hair with one hand and rub their back with my other. After all, our relationship is maintained by touch. The movie keeps going in the background of my thoughts, but it isn’t important. It doesn’t mean anything compared to how their hair feels between my fingertips, how their scalp presses back against my touch, or how they arch into my other hand as it gently pushes their shirt up so I can feel the smooth skin on their back.
My babygirl is stirring slightly. Maybe it’s my left hand down her pajama bottoms cupping her vulva with two fingers gently stroking her labia. Maybe it’s that my clit is hard against her from behind. It doesn’t matter. I knew she would wake up eventually. I knew she would want this. She’s been letting me know for weeks that she needed it. I whisper in her ear, “Babygirl, you’re so wet for mommy, aren’t you?
I’m nervous? Why am I nervous? I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve done this thousands of times before with so many different people. I’m good at this. Of course, this is the first time we are in the same place together after months of just being a voice and a face on the screen.
I lead her in through the porch, to the door that only goes to my room.