Bedroom Eyes 35

I rolled over and kissed Scallop’s pussy. Then I put my tongue against her lips, warm and wet and woman-pungent, and she gasped. I smacked her bottom for that, but fondly. I raised my head to look at her. She looked back, surprised: had I stopped being cruel?

I said, “Scallop, you still can’t speak, but you can make noises now.”

She lowered her head and made an assenting grunt. I kissed her pussy again, then spread her thighs and began licking, with two fingers inserted inside her.She undulated against me, sighing.

Maires had got to her knees, and was kissing and biting Scallop’s nipples, occasionally moving up to kiss her mouth. I sped up, mouth and nose pressed into Scallop’s wet and moving mango, and she moaned as if she was in great and wonderful pain. She reached down and stroked my hair, then pressed her hand down on my head. I could have punished her for assuming she could use force on me, but just then it didn’t matter. Her thighs clamped tight on my face while I tongued her hard and fast, and her body tensed. Her orgasm was a soft, bird sound, a dove’s coo.

She lay back, gasping, but Maires was determined she’d get no rest. She straddled Scallop, her thighs on Scallop’s shouders, with her pussy just above Scallop’s mouth. It was clear what Maires wanted. Scallop complied, lifting her face and giving her Mistress service.

I said, “Good girl. Good girls.”

I watched for a moment, looking up at Scallop’s breasts in motion while Scallop started her new task, and at Maires’s arse, also in motion, fucking Scallop’s face. Then I buried my face back in Scallop’s cunt, making her gasp. Somehow, that gasp made Maires tense and grunt at the same moment.

I thrust three fingers inside Scallop, still tonguing her, and she closed her thighs on my face again. Maires sobbed suddenly. Scallop’s response to my hand and mouth had made her service more intense.

Maires’s arse was in dramatic motion, firmly pressed against Scallop’s face, riding her ruthlessly for her own pleasure. I stayed with my task, but watched Maires suddenly lift her head, staring up at the ceiling, ululating painedly and triumphantly, then fall forward, her belly on Scallop’s face. Scallop writhed, pressing herself against my mouth, until she came too, her orgasmic moan gentler, softer than Maires.

I edged my way up the bed and Scallop’s body, pressing my cock against her and then into her. She was a wet girl, tight and warm. She raised her thighs to hold me, as if she’d folded her body in two. Maires rolled off Scallop’s face, and knelt beside her, watching her being fucked, sometimes leaning down to kiss her. Scallop sighed. Then she sped up, taking me deep, and we moved together, my hands now holding her breasts hard.

We stared intently at each other, Scallop and I, then her eyes rolled back, the pupils almost disappearing. I squeezed her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, then twisted. She screamed at last, loud as Maires, and came for the third time. She lay back panting, being kissed by Maires but making little response. For now she was done.

I was still hard in her, as I hadn’t come myself, but I withdrew and climbed further up so I could put an arm round Maires and drag her down to lie with Scallop and me. We lay together, my loves at my sides, and lay still, calm and loving. Scallop kissed my armpit and put a hand on my cock.

But when she started to stroke me I shook my head and she stopped. “Scallop.”

“Nnn?”

“You’ve got back the right to speak. How do you feel?”

She looked at me. “I feel wonderful. I loved being your table. And whatever I was just then. You can do that again whenever you like.” Her voice was high, breathy.

“I don’t need your permission, love.”

“S-sorry, Master.”

I smiled, I hope reassuringly. “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. We will do it again, little puss.”

I smacked her belly, since her bottom was out of reach. She smiled at me. I kissed her nose, then her mouth. My cock was very aware of her. At my other side Maires shifted, her face under my arm, body curled. I looked down at her, keeping still. A tendrill of hair on her mouth moved as she breathed. She gave a sort of gentle proto-snore. She was asleep.

Wicked Wednesday: Droit de Seigneur 14

Yvain, kneeling with her Seigneur’s cock deep in her mouth, had been surprised by how easy this was. The cock went deep in her throat when she took all of him, her nose and lips in his dark pubic hair, but she’d found that by thinking of relaxing things, and self-discipline she could stop the gag reflex. 

She remember her Seigneur saying that Gisela had had to be caned often before she learned to control that, and she felt briefly smug.  This was not so unpleasant, and she was, obviously good at it. Better than the Mayor’s wife.

Then the Seigneur, who’d been keeping perfectly still while she pleasured him, sighed with pleasure. The hand that held her hair opened, to press the back of her skull.

He pushed her firmly forward while, for the first time, his cock moved in her mouth, questing deeper.

She felt a moment’s panic as the head of his cock, well engorged, seeming huge in her mouth, slid into her throat. She wasn’t ready for this, and it was much harder. She managed to suppress the urge to cough, to try to get that obstruction out of her throat. But the effort cost her tears.

Now he was fucking her mouth and throat, the firm press of his hand allowing her no lee-way. She managed to take him, her eyes wild with fear that she might fail him and deserve more punishment, tears streaming with the effort of control. At last the movement of the cock in her mouth slowed, then stopped. 

The Seigneur said, “You’re doing well, Yvain. And I know you’re trying your best.”

Yvain tried to speak, his cock like an iron bar in her mouth. “‘An you, ‘y Seigneur.”

He slid out of her, so she could kiss him, that hard, soft, sensitive skin, then take him in again.

“This next part is going to be harder for you, Yvain. I’m going to fuck your mouth hard and fast. And when I come – you know that I will release a sort of fluid into your mouth, don’t you?” 

“‘es, ‘y Seigneur.”

“You will swallow it all, and then you will clean my cock with your mouth. If you miss a drop you will be flogged. As you’d expect. Stand up, girl.” 

Yvain kissed the Seigneur’s cock, then again as she, more than he, withdrew until it was free in the air. Then she stood. “Seigneur?”

“The beldam is in the room next to this. Go to her, and tell her you are a passable cock-sucker, but that you will need discipline for the next stage. Ask her, most politely, to bring her heaviest cane.” 

“My Seigneur, I think I can – “

He reached forward and slapped her face. The blow did not hurt. But it’s meaning did. She had overstepped herself and displeased him. “I have not given you permission to argue with me, little slut. I don’t think I ever will. Ask the beldam to begin by giving you six of the best, immediately, for insolence.” 

Yvain felt stricken. How had she been so foolish? She said, “I’m sorry, my – “

“Twelve of the best. And you are to tell her you will take them in complete silence, no matter how hard she canes you. Go, Yvain.” 

 Yvain nodded, and made a gesture that would have been a curtsy if she’d been wearing a stick of clothing. She glimpsed herself in a mirror as she she turned and opened the door into the corridor. She was becoming a new person. A sorer and a happier girl.

A guard, outside, smiled when he saw her, but said nothing. She went and tapped nervously at the beldam’s door. Then she took a breath, fortifying herself, and knocked louder.

 

Masturbation Monday: What we both want

We definitely did. Draw things out in each other. Right from the moment you pushed my skirt up.”

That was a good memory for Roland, obviously, His cock thickened in Teresa’s hand, not quite to hardness, but a sign of renewed interest just the same. 

He took her hand then, and kissed it, then bit it. Teresa said, “Yes… I was hoping you’d bite me.” 

He took each of her fingers then, kissed each sensitive fingertip, then squeezed it between his teeth, in turn. “Pleasure,” he said.

He pushed her down onto the bed, on her back, and repeated that treatment, kissing her labia, then her clitoris, and then biting. Teresa said, “Ah, but… Ahhhh…” And under the ministrations of his mouth she forgot what she was talking about. She lay back, and accepted his tongue, and the warm feelings of comfort and a kind of wary love, an emotion that warned of bigger emotions on their way, and let her hands drop to the bed, at her sides, and her thighs open for him. 

At some point she roused herself, mentally, while he tongued her, and said, “But…” 

He lifted her left thigh and smacked the underside. Not softly or playfully; the smack of someone who she had given her consent. She considered that, while waiting for the second smack she was sure would be coming, and nodded: so be it. He gave her that second smack, as close to her bottom as he could reach.

Then lifted his head just long enough to say, “There are no buts, Teresa.”

There’s my butt, she thought rebelliously, and you like to hurt it. She grinned, imagining herself saying, You pervert! But she didn’t say that. Because he’d lowered his head again, and this time took as much squishy Teresa-flesh as he could into his mouth and closed his teeth a little, and shook his head as if he were a dog tearing flesh. A polite, gentle, careful dog. Then he resumed tonguing her, focussed on her clitoris while he slipped three fingers into her. 

Teresa could feel her toes curl, and then curl tight, and her fingers made fists. She grunted, hard, and then moaned, like the wail of a cat being fucked.

Roland only sped up, and the other familiar sensation, tight in her thighs and her belly, rose in her. She moaned, but then when orgasm took over her body she could only gurgle: “k… k… k…”

And then time was floaty, and nothing meant anything or had to have meaning. But at last she felt his cock, hard now, touch her left calf muscle.

She knew she wanted that. In her mouth, she decided. She’d like to swallow him And his come.

But first she said, remembering the thing she’d thought before, “But I meant, would you, bite me to draw blood?”  

“No. No, sorry, I wouldn’t want to do that. No.” 

“You’re really no fun.” She was joking, but she was disappointed and a little sad. She knew they’d both have to think and talk about this some more. There had to be some way they could both have all of what they wanted, without having to take on too much of what they didn’t want.

But she half rose and leaned down to kiss his belly, and there was no question in that moment, or in the next several minutes, what they both wanted. 

Food for Thought Friday: If music be the food of love

I was working as a psychiatric nurse, in some place out in the country. The job had an alarming side, or two sides.

On the one hand, some of the patients would kill you if you gave them a chance. They were always looking for that chance, in a focussed way. You, the nurse, are thinking about other patients, about the hot nurse in the other ward, and so on. So you sometimes got close to getting killed, when they made their attempt.

There was a blind guy, for example, of immense strength, and he’d always know where you were. Unless you backtracked extremely quietly, to get out of range. Then he’d grab something like an armchair, raise it high and bring it down on the spot you’d just stepped silently back from. He could do that in one movement, terrifyingly fast, because he was, as I said, immensely strong.

On the other hand, Barbara, who was also a nurse, once spilled some of the medication she was issuing to patients onto her uniform, which was mostly polyester. And the polyester started to dissolve! I was desperate for a chance to see through her uniform – hey, I was seventeen years old – but somehow that wasn’t sexy. Not even when I put her under a tap, in case any of it got on her skin.

She was twenty, which I thought was an utterly insurmountable age gap, so I’d never set my sights on her. But later she and I were hanging out in my room, and I put on Dark Side of the Moon. When we got the opening piano chords of “Great Gig on the Sky”, she said, “That girl sounds like I do, when I’m fucking.” 

I was seventeen, as I said, and my sexual history was just four girls long at that time. It should have been longer because I was a pretty boy, not that I knew that. But I had a real fear of making an Unwanted Advance, so I often held back until I was certain, when in reality I’d been signalled so hard that the girl would decide that I must not be interested. I’d missed a lot of offers.

Anyway, I decided that might be an offer, so I put an arm round her, and she leaned in to me. We sat together, listening to music and pretending that was what we were focussed on. From that moment in this story (except for about five minutes of it), I have an erection.

When Clare Torry comes in and sings, Barbs kissed me, and I kissed her back. Then we were writhing around on the floor. Barbs undid my pants, kissed my cock, and then took it in her mouth. She was the first girl who’d done that, and it was incandescently pleasurable, of course, but also an enormous relief to me.

That is, I’d been in the company of feminist friends who talked a lot about cocks as if they were nasty things, a kind of horror that men inflicted on women. And because it was obvious that sexism and patriarchy were utterly unfair and unpleasant things, I’d started to think maybe they were right about that too. So as well as the sexual pleasure, Barbs also moved me emotionally, because of the acceptance of it: she must actually really like my cock!

If I’d told her all that, she’d have thought I was nuts, I was sure, so instead I just babbled about how wonderful she was. Then, when Clare Torry was winding down, I came and she swallowed. That was amazing to me too, because my come was a body product that I tended to think of negatively.

If there wasn’t a girl, and usually there wasn’t, then I’d splat it into tissue paper, and then flush it down the toilet. So it can’t be good.

This was the first time a girl had swallowed my come, taken it into herself, and it was the first time it occurred to me that my come is a sort of essence of me, and if the girl is fond of me then she may like my come, too.

Anyway, that was at the end of Great Gig in the Sky. We got off the floor and onto my bed, where I took my clothes off and then Barbs’s. And we breathed each other’s breath, except when I was kissing her tits, and eventually I said, “That was… amazing. But you didn’t sound at all like Clare Torry.”

Barbs frowned. “Oh, she’s the girl – Wailing girl? Well, I was sort of fucking you, but you weren’t fucking me. You want those noises, you need to fuck me.” 

So I put on Side 1 again. And learned that at seventeen my recovery time was: Speak to me (1′ 07″), Breathe in the air (2′ 50″), plus about a minute into “On the Run”.

But I managed to not come until she had, during “Great Gig”, and I can report that she told the truth. 

“Knowledge is good.”

 

 

Wicked Wednesday: The shoplifter’s mother clamped

It’s been a long time since Claire has had a cock in her mouth. But it’s the first time she’s ever pleasured a man while wearing nipple clamps and having another woman, Maddie, around to “encourage” her with a ruler.

It’s a hot scene but it’s had to leave my blog because it’s published now, and publishers don’t like their stuff to be available for free. I’ll put up a link to where you can buy this very hot text, shortly.

 

Wicked Wednesday: Clamping down

Claire is on her knees with Will’s cock in her mouth, very focused on her task. Then Maddie enters the room. Claire’s never been watched, in that position, before. After a second’s shock, she begins to find something deliciously humbling in that service and its audience.

It’s a hot scene but it’s had to leave my blog because it’s published now, and publishers don’t like their stuff to be available for free. I’ll put up a link to where you can buy this very hot text, shortly.

Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 34

This is episode 11 of the series that evolved and expanded to become that very erotic and engrossing ebook, Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 3: Trying to be a Good Girl.

In this episode, Jennifer and Will share a moment of tenderness. They acknowledge their desire for each other, though still not in words. But first, Jennifer has to fetch the slipper… 

I’ve had to remove the actual text, because this excellent and very sexy book has been published and is being submitted for sale at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple Books, 24symbols, Angus and Robinson, tolino, Rakuten Kobo and Vivlio.

I’ll give you a link to a page that will take you to your favoured on-line bookseller, or allow you to choose one, very soon.

Wicked Wednesday: Juniper’s Adventures 13

This is episode 5 of the series that became the ebook Jennifer’s Pleats and Pleas 2: The Chime of the Bellbird.

In this episode, Maddie sets about pleasing the man she calls her Master. Who, of course, she thinks she has twisted round her little finger. A pleasurable power struggle begins, that can only have one, mutually satisfying, ending.

 

I’ve had to remove the actual text, because this excellent and very sexy book has been published and is on sale at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple Books, 24symbols, Angus and Robinson, tolino, Rakuten Kobo and Vivlio. A link that allows you to choose your favoured book supplier is here.

 

Frisky business among the Venetian searchlights: Food for Thought Friday

f4tf_button2The Food for Thought Friday people have asked: 

Where is the riskiest/most adventurous place that you have had sex?

Did you get caught?

 

My answer:

Richard Wagner died in his rooms at a palazzo on the Grand Canal in Venice. The locals, naturally, turned this great historical building, rich in artistic associations, into a casino. 

Wagner's old digs. At night

Wagner’s old digs at night. See the dark area on the second floor, towards the left? We were there

A few years ago I went to the Casino de Venezia with Niamh, a girl I’d met in Dublin. Gambling bores me, and she said she didn’t care about casinos one way or the other. But I wanted to have a look at Wagner’s old rooms, and she came along because we were sharing a bed so we might as well share this too. Also, I’d promised and demonstrated that if she didn’t do as she was told I’d smack her arse. So there was that. She was fond of the hairbrush, in particular.

I guess I should admit that I’d answered her ad on Fetlife, once I realised I was going to be in Ireland for a while, so even before we’d met we’d both established that Niamh was a girl who liked doing as she was told. And getting a smacked arse. Anyway, there we both were. Niamh still wore that afternoon’s wonderful summer dress, the top of which was held up mainly by her breasts. I wasn’t so glamorous, since I was in jeans, but at least I had on decent shoes and a jacket. 

Once we were in the top floor I asked a few casino staff where the Wagner rooms were. They didn’t know. They’d never heard of Wagner. If I wanted an explanation of anything you could do with dice and some cards – in public, at least – then they’d be happy to help, but this Wagner fellow … They’d shrug and hold their hands open and empty.

I got annoyed with this, so when I found a closed door I opened it, and when I found a closed curtain I drew it. When I found the back stairs we went down them to the mezzanine floor where Wagner had lived. And died. It turned out that someone had made a Wagner Museum out of Wagner’s old rooms. It was closed of course. Well, it was closed in the sense that it was dark and there was no-one there. But I turned the door handle, and it opened.  

I wondered about security alarms, and decided that I could probably bullshit my way out of trouble if an alarm went off, and I held the door open for her. Then I followed, and after a minute it was clear that if there was an alarm someone had forgotten to switch it on. Italy’s cool like that. 

I moved through the exhibits, feeling a certain mix of excitement and disappointment. Excitement because we’re here, where Wagner lived! And this is his stuff! And disappointment because I’d hoped for some sense of communion and connection. But there wasn’t. There’s his piano, but he’s dead. He’s not here. 

Wagner's Rhinemaidens. They may kill you but it's worth it. Drawing: Arthur Packham (detail)

Wagner’s Rhinemaidens. They may kill you but it’s worth it. Drawing: Arthur Rackham (detail)

But there was a certain kind of homage to the great man when Niamh came back from her exploration. I kissed her, and then pushed her dress down to her waist, so her breasts were bare.

Like a Rhinemaiden’s. Like a Flower Maiden. Then I put light pressure on her shoulders and she sank to her knees, unzipped me and took out my cock. She licked, then kissed my glans, then opened her mouth a little wider. Oddly, it was me who said, “Ahhh.”

So I was standing there, my cock deep in the mouth of a bare-breasted Irish girl, when I heard something. A security guard had walked onto the mezzanine floor. He’d seen us. I put my hands on Niamh’s shoulders and squeezed, to let her feel how pleased I was with her, though my cock was already conveying that information, and to obscure her peripheral vision.

Then I looked at the security guard and shrugged the apologetic Italian shrug. Niamh was still sucking me, oblivious. He considered for a second or two: is a couple having oral sex in the museum likely to steal things? Or are they innocents pursuing innocent and harmless pleasures? He didn’t smile, but he lit a cigarette (yes, I know; it’s an old building) and wandered back to the stairs. 

overthewallLater I pulled out of Niamh’s mouth and took her by the hand. I opened the window out onto the Grand Canal. There was a ledge with a stone barrier. There were also lights lighting up the front of the casino, but they left pools of darkness at the sides of each projector. So that’s where I bent her over, smacked her pretty little ass, and took a condom from my wallet and put it on my cock. And put my cock in her. 

You’d think that was the riskier situation, but it wasn’t. Our view was fantastic, lights and gondolas and vaporetti, and the throng of people, and so was the softness of her cunt and my hardness sliding slowly together, and the gritty stone under her breasts, uncomfortable in the good way, and our urgency slowly building.

It’s a good place to fuck. Venice is a city for lovers, because without us there wouldn’t be the money to pay to preserve all those drowned streets and buildings. So there aren’t many people in Venice, I don’t think, who don’t like the sight of bare breasts joggling while their owner gets pumped from behind.

But they missed out. Even when Niamh and I came, fairly close together, and not completely succeeding in suppressing orgasm noises (we sounded like donkeys coughing), not a soul noticed us. 

Mouth to mouth 12: “Ropes? There are ropes on this bed?”

I didn’t know what woke me. Not at first. Qing slept beside me, her tiny body coiled, with her head half under her pillow and her little ass pushed back at me for her comfort and mine. A cord I’d noticed before we slept, one of the four tied to the bedends, lay on the sheet near her mouth, wet with her drool. Another comforter, I supposed. When she slept alone.

sleeperI lay on my side behind her, my arm over her shoulder resting on the swelling of her left breast. In the times I was awake and hard, I’d enjoyed its insistent arousal in my palm.

Through the night I’d listened to her sleeping breathing, with my cock sometimes hard in the warm, comfortable gap between the top of her thighs. 

Sometimes I’d soften and drift towards sleep, but whenever she moved I’d wake up  and my cock would straighten, wanting her.

(That gap at the top of the thighs: it’s the sub-pudendal inter-gracile fossa. The name for that part of the body is my contribution to medical science. It may be useless – I mean my contribution – but it‘s sexy.)

But I must have slept for few hours, eventually, because some time after four in the morning I woke up. Qing had reached back to hold and enclose my cock in her right hand. I could feel my heart-beat, held inside that little cage of fingers.

There were no curtains on her window, and outside I could see light in the gaps between the trees. There’d be birdsong soon. But in her room it was still dark and quiet. I watched her shoulder rise and fall with her breathing. Qing must have sensed that I’d woken up, because although she didn’t move at first, she made a satisfied, happy noise, and stroked the underside of my cock with her thumb.

I sucked in a breath, intending her to hear and understand that I was awake, and that it was okay for her to know it. I wanted her to feel certain that I was pleased to find myself in her bed, and to find her wanton again. Qing ran her thumb up and down the underside of my cock, still holding me lightly with her fingers, until the sensation was almost unbearable. Whenever she touched me my cock jumped like a salmon climbing a rapid.

She turned over at last, and kissed my belly. I said, “ahh..” But she moved lower, down the bed. 

qing and my cockI suspected that I should stop her. Or I kind of did. I was sure I’d come far too soon if she sucked me. And while coming in Qing’s mouth wasn’t the worst thing I could think of, I’d prefer to delay a bit longer. 

But she took the head of my cock in her mouth, and I no longer had the willpower to tell her to stop. I let her please me. If she’d been mine and submissive I’d have trained her a little more: teaching her how to suck as hard as I want without getting her teeth in the way, and I’d have wanted to make my points with the help of a rope’s end.

Still, I don’t think it’s possible for a man not to be pleased with a woman with her mouth full with his cock.

But I remembered that rope’s end, the cords that had been in her mouth while she slept. I found that they stretched as far as the cleft between her buttocks, and I gave her a series of light strokes across the near half of her ass, to encourage her.

qing's smacked bumQing frowned. I doubted that she’d ever been whipped before. But the strokes were light-ish – the way she’d soaked the end with her drool helped to make it land across her skin a little harder – and they helped her with rhythm.

I hoped she also felt the strokes were interestingly, enjoyably perverse. She seemed to be happy, so I kept her whipping going. Then I made the strokes harder, and Qing came up for air. She was hesitant about speaking. She was trying to remember something. 

“You’d asked me about these, when I was drifting off, didn’t you?”

The phrasing told me what was missing. “Jaime. I’m Jaime,” I said. And to show off, I added, “And you’re Qing.”

“Jaime, sorry. Anyway, you’re only more or less righ’ with my name. You don’t qui’e get the ‘chj’ sound. So: Jaime.”

“C’est moi. Anyway, I thought this” – I whacked her ass again with the cords – “was interesting. Not every girl has ropes tied onto her bedends?” 

“Well, not every boy pays any attention to them. You’re the first, actually. An’ … I didn’t put them there. I just – what’s the word? – inhabited? No, inherent?” 

“Inherited?”

“Ah-yuh. I inherited the bed when I took the room. And the ropes were already there. I just never took them off. It was too hard.” 

qingI had a little pile of things I’d taken from my pockets when I’d undressed: the condoms, but also my phone, keys, some cash and my Swiss Army knife. I held up the knife, with all blades closed. “Really? You couldn’t get them off, and that’s why they’re still here? It’s very easy to fix that. I can cut them off right now if you like.” 

“No! It’s ok!” She was trying to sound casual. She didn’t remotely succeed. 

So I said, “Well, whether they stay or go, would you like to try them on? Now?” 

Qing dropped her head and licked my cock again. She busied herself with that project, and said nothing. 

“Qing, I can’t do anything unless you say the magic word.”

“Please?”

“Okay, magic words: say, ‘yes, please’.

“‘Yes, please’.”

“Not quite yet. First I tell you that I’ll put you on your tummy. And that I’ll tie your feet apart, and your hands together behind your back. And among other things, I’ll fuck you while you can’t move.”

“Tha’ would be your turn-on, would it?”

“I’d enjoy m’self, for sure. But the question’s what you want. Now: ‘yes, please’, or ‘no thanks’?”

“Ah… And how do -“

I don’t know what she was going to ask, but I know delaying tactics when I hear them. So I smacked her bottom with her saliva-soaked cord again. She said, “Aa-aiie!”

I smiled at her, as though I were a reasonable man. “So that’s a ‘no, thanks’?”

“No.” That sounded considered. “I mean, it’s not ‘no thanks’. It is ‘yes, please’. If you promise to remember tha’ I haven’t done this before.”

“Good girl. Very good girl.” I put my hand on the small of her back. “Now spread your legs.”