Heath couldn't breathe.

He was having some kind of fantastic sex dream. In it, he was being smothered by huge breasts.

They were the best kind, gigantic, soft, perfectly, symmetrically round, with just the right sized areolae and nipples that were the exact right hard-soft texture, like gumdrops.

Like MJ's.

Whenever he could manage to take a breath, he could smell the fantastic smell of sex. A woman's sex, to be exact, the salty, tangy, secret smell she carried deep between her legs, or maybe on a damp spot on her underwear if she were making out with someone. Heath loved putting his hand between a woman's legs, if she'd let him, and getting a finger or two up into that private place, hopefully feeling that wonderful slickness that meant that she was just as into it as he was, getting a whiff of what was on his fingers, and, if he was lucky, a taste. The air in his dream was filled with that fabulous, briny, scent.

Like MJ's.

In his dream, Heath had a huge, no, a huge, erection, the likes of which he hadn't had since his early teens, when he'd have wet dreams three or four nights running about his sexy Latin teacher. It felt like he had a steel rod between his legs.

It was getting hard to breathe, so Heath reached up and tried to claw his way to some air, filling his hands with the supple, warm skin of his sex dream goddess. She had a pliant body, and long curly hair. Her torso dipped to a curvy waist, from which it flared to nice, round hips, with those cute as fuck twin dimples at the base of her spine.

Like MJ.

It finally filled Heath's sleep-addled brain that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a dream. He slid his hands down to grab twin handfuls of a rich and round bottom as he groaned and opened his eyes. What he saw nearly made him go blind.

Above him, MJ, sans yellow nightie, was beautifully, completely, nude, body with a lovely, pearly sheen of effort in the afternoon light. Her glorious breasts were indeed right above his face, swinging and swaying in the most alluring way, every once in a while pressing into his nose and mouth and cutting off all air.

MJ had somehow lowered his pajama bottoms without waking him, and was rubbing herself on him, focusing all of that delicious wetness and heat and pressure directly on his erection, which was by now so hard it was starting to throb and actually feel painful.

MJ looked down at him, smiled like an angel, making her dimple pop, and said, "Good morning, Heath, my lover, my love."

Heath blinked up at her, smiled, and said, "Good morning to you, too, tiger." He tightened his grip on the twin globes of her bottom, moving them up and down as he groaned pleasurably and asked, "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Well, I kind of hoped you'd know," MJ responded between breaths. "I guess I'm not as good at this as I'd hoped."

Heath pushed up with his hips, causing such a burst of pleasure that he let out a gasp as MJ rose slightly into the air. "Oh, no, believe me, darling, you're very, very, good at this." He nodded for emphasis, closing his eyes at how amazing she felt. "Oh, fuck, MJ, this feels almost as good as when I'm inside you, Jesus Christ," he moaned.

"This is therapy," MJ informed him.

"For you or for me?" Heath gasped.

"For me, of course," MJ replied with a smile. "After an assault, the survivor needs to have as many positive sexual experiences as she can, as soon as she feels she can. Sometimes that can be years after the assault." She dimpled at him, squeezing with her hips, eliciting another gasp. "Sometimes it doesn't take that long."

Heath just nodded, hoping he didn't come, because in this position, most of it would probably end up in ropey splatters all over his own face.

"What about your dad?" he asked, partly because he was honestly concerned about Bampás throwing the door open at an inopportune moment, and partly to try to distract himself from the sensations that were close to spiraling out of control between his legs.

"Well, he's not actually involved in this part of the therapy process," MJ said with a straight face as she continued to undulate on top of him. "I mean, I can call him if you want him to be, but that would be a different kind of therapy, you understand? And not necessarily the kind I would want to be a part of."

Heath bit his lips together and considered tipping MJ off him, but it just felt too damned good. So he let her cheekiness go.

"Is it part of the therapy that the entire experience be in this, erm, position? Or can intromission occur?" Heath asked, eyes wide with hope.

"I'm sorry, did you say intromission?" MJ asked with a snort. The snort was so hard she stopped moving.

"MJ, you're dangerously close to being cunty," Heath warned her.

MJ looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I'll let that go, because you're so hot," she finally told him. "Speaking of which, did I say something about you being hot before we fell asleep? I can't exactly remember..."

She waited, looking at him expectantly.

Heath stared at her, remembering their funny, lovely, blurry conversation. He sat up so suddenly he nearly did pitch her off his lap, saving her by grabbing her arms.

He put his hands on her face and kissed her, slowly and hard, making the most romantic sounds, of want, of love, as they opened their mouths to each other. He wrapped his arms around her back, as she twined hers around his neck, in the warm, afternoon light, sighing with happiness, reveling in the wetness of the other's mouths as they kissed again and again.

"I love you, MJ, I love you so much, more than I've ever loved another living being in my life," he told her in between kisses. "I love everything about you, everything, every beautiful thing, all of you, do you hear me?"

By now both were damp, with strands of wet hair falling about their faces, skin glistening where they touched each other. Heath leaned her back so he could kiss the breasts which had invaded his dreams and called him to wakefulness, as MJ tightened her hips around his erection, rubbing herself against him and making herself come, crying out against his hair as she held his head to her bosom.

Heath lifted her by the waist, and MJ reached between them, raising his length so she could come down on it, enclosing him in her heat, in the tightness that was MJ, the feeling that Heath would recognize as her forever.

"Oh, god, you feel amazing, amazing," he murmured into her neck as she settled on his lap, squeezing his hips just a little, tightening on him to increase his pleasure.

"You do, too, Heath," MJ replied, lowering her head onto his shoulder.

"Darling, do something for me?"

"Mm?"

"Lie back, love, on my legs."

MJ lifted her head and looked at him.

He nodded.

A little gingerly, MJ lay back, lifting her legs at the knees so they were near his shoulders.

"Like this?"

Heath nodded. "You look incredible, MJ, Jesus, I wish you could see how fucking sexy you look."

"Really?" MJ asked with a pleased smile.

"Oh yeah. Your--your breasts are-"

"You can call them tits," MJ interrupted with a little laugh. "I know you want to."

"Your tits are pointing up because of how your back is arched on my legs," Heath continued, and your bum looks all nice and round, and I can see your erm, lady bits--"

"Lady bits?" MJ repeated, laughing, making her hair shake.

"Shut it, you," Heath said, trying to sound stern. "Anyway, I can see this part of you," and he placed his fingers on her wet, slick sex, which made her gasp and draw in her breath, "which is so, so beautiful, and something I usually can't see when we're going at it like this, you know?"

He began rubbing on her as he talked, and MJ started sliding back and forth, using her feet to move.

"Oh god, Heath, I'm going to come already," MJ moaned. She cried out, that special sound she made, that Heath loved to hear. He smiled and kept rubbing.

"I can see myself going in and out of you," he said. "It's so fucking hot, MJ, Jesus."

He gave her three more orgasms within minutes, and he noticed that she almost sounded like she was in pain the last time, so he removed his hand, and pulled her back up to a sitting position.

"Wow, thanks," she said, smiling and kissing him.

"You're very welcome," he replied, smiling back.

He turned them so she was underneath him, and spread her legs, but before entering her, he grasped her legs at the knees and lifted them slightly. With other partners he'd actually lifted their legs over his shoulders, but he wasn't sure MJ's body could manage that, and he didn't want to hurt her, either her body or her pride, especially today, so he stuck with just raising her legs with his arms.

Even with this slight change, the angles were very different, and she gasped and arched her back, tilting her head into the pillow when he thrust into her.

He felt her fingernails digging into his back, and loved the painful pleasure of the sensation. This was MJ, she was his woman, he was her man, and this was their affirmation of that fact. He loved her, and she loved him.

"I love you, MJ, and I'm sorry for what happened to you," Heath whispered into her ear.

"I love you, Heath, and I'm sorry for what happened to you," MJ whispered back.

Moments later he went rocketing over the edge, into one of the longest lasting and deepest orgasms he'd ever had.

Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered, they went out to wake up MJ's dad and face whatever the rest of this horrible day had to offer them.