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 "Are there different degrees of darkness?" Ryan asks me as he slides into bed. "Not really," I say, moving closer to the warmth of his body. He wraps his arms around me and I run my fingers over his biceps. They are not too large, yet still well defined. "The fog is rolling in," he says and I know he is looking out of the window above our bed. A cool breeze blows in, stirring the sheets and I can hear the light titter of people walking on the sidewalk below. "What does fog look like?" I ask, turning my cheek so it rests upon the soft cotton of his T-shirt. He smells like laundry detergent, a sort of chemically fresh scent. "Picture a blob," he says, "an intangible shape that if you put your hand through and drew it out again it would be wet." "Go on," I tell him moving my hand through his thin hair that has grown just a little bit over his eyes. "It rolls slowly across the sky. Everything is light and it's like the heavens unrolled a thick carpet." He picks up the soft blanket from the foot of my bed and draws it over us to make his point. He pulls it over our heads and we giggle.  I turn my face towards him and he brings his lips down to mine. They are soft and as soon as he kisses me I feel a stirring between my legs. His tongue darts into my mouth, running along my teeth."Fog smothers the entire city," he says as he rolls over on top of me. I like the pressure of his body and the soft touch of his hand as he places it lightly behind my neck. I can feel him hard against me, his cock pressing into my thigh. I know him. I know each of his body parts as if it were my own. The rise of his Adam's apple, the slope of his nose, the curve of his calf. His breath is hot. His lips, barely parted, start their journey. They begin in the hollow of my throat and travel straight down until they pause in the center of my breasts, leaving a tiny trail of moisture in their wake. "Tell me," I say as his mouth finds my nipple, "is the fog warm or cold?" He is sucking on my tit. His lips have formed a firm suction and his tongue moves in tiny circles. "Fog," he says, his mouth hovering above me, "is like this." He lifts his mouth away and a burst of cold air rushes in to take its place, I feel my nipple double in size as it lurches upward searching for his warmth. I smile and he brings his lips down to mine. His callused hands are sliding down my thighs. They move to the insides, pulling me apart. His fingers stroke the tiny dip under my pelvic bone. He is teasing me. I want him to move over, to touch me. He brushes his fingers lightly above my patch of short hairs. I gasp. "Fog touches everything," he says and I can hear the smile in his voice.  His finger finds my clit and he gently rubs it, moving lightly back and forth. I raise my hips to encourage him to go faster. He does. He slides one finger inside of me. Immediately I tighten around it trying to feel every part.He draws it in and out but I want more of him. "Tell me," I gasp, "can fog go inside of you?" He shifts his weight until he is centered above me. He removes his fingers and uses them to guide his dick, it pokes stubbornly at my opening. "Fog can go everywhere," he tells me and he pushes himself in, "you can feel it in your bones." He moves inside of me. He pushes deep and hard, again and again. I raise my hips to meet him as he thrusts. I feel him swell inside of me, touching each of my walls. He starts moving faster, harder, I can feel him deep inside of me. I clutch his back and wrap my legs around his. He begins to groan and I can smell him beginning to perspire. He moves faster and the feeling travels through my stomach as he thrusts and I clench. Through the darkness of my eyes a flash of light passes as I begin to shake and quiver. I gasp and come, my entire body tensing around him. Without sight the other four are magnified and my orgasm is almost unbearably intense. He thrusts once more, his thighs tighten and he lays still. He kisses my lips, my face, my neck and I nestle my nose into his fine hair, breathing in the heady scent of sex and shampoo. "Ryan," I whisper to him, "I'm glad we moved to San Francisco." I lightly feel his eyelids to see if they are closed and I wonder how I ever lived without the pale gray light of fog.
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