Happy Birthday, Sesame Street!
You're the one.
Okay, one more cheat today...is this cheating to post? I am not sure yet. :-)

I have a story to tell about the Lady of the house and I, from when we were in college. It's not a very complex story, little more than an image in my head, a moment in time.
The photograph accompanying is not it. We're old, but not that old. You try searching for a picture of a woman typing who happens to be naked, and see what you get.
I would have given a lot to have had a camera, but digital cameras did not exist yet, and no drugstore would have processed that picture.
It would have been spring 1974, or perhaps as early as fall 1973. I suck at dates. I can narrow it down to a school year because I remember the dorm I was in.
I know it was a Saturday, because my beloved would not have been in my dorm on any other day. (Her college was a couple of hours' drive from mine, so a weeknight visit was out of the question.)
We had just had sex in the wholly inadequate twin bed. Only desperate young hormones could love sex in a dorm bed. But, what the hell, it was sex, right?
She had a term paper due, for which she had a handwritten draft. I owwned a typewriter: She didn't. (Again, this was before anyone had put the words "personal" and "computer" in the same sentence.) Would I mind if she typed up the report while she was here? No, of course not.
This is how it came to be that I was relaxing on the aforementioned twin bed watching her type stark naked. It felt like a very grown-up moment: See, here we are, we don't have to spend every moment fucking, we can do other things together.
Yeah, right. She was doing an other thing. I was watching the play of the muscles in her back and arms and the jiggle of the various jigglicious fleshy bits. For once, I was able to look at, stare at and study a naked woman to my heart's content. I never get tired of that.