I pick it up and smirk while I say, “Fine, I’ll ask, and then we can both answer.” Clearing my throat, I ask, “What’s the best oral your partner has ever given you?”
She picks up her water and takes a sip, clearly avoiding the answer, so I step in.
“It was our fourth date.”
She snorts. “God, you wish.” She then leans forward and whispers, “I’d never give oral on a fourth date.”
“Really?”
“Would you?”
I grin. “Given it on the first.”And that was one of my finest dates, I might add.Not that there weretoomany first dates during college.
Her mouth falls open, and then she quickly closes it. “That’s…that’s?—”
“You can unclench, darling. It’s going to be okay,” I say. “Now, back to our fourth date. It was when we went out to the pumpkin farm.”
She sits back, looking far too annoyed, but I keep going.
“You were high off apple cider doughnuts and fresh country air. You just got off the hayride, so your hair was tousled, and your cheeks were bright pink. You were irresistible.”
“Oh my God,” she mutters.
“You pulled me in close and whispered in my ear that you wanted to get lost in the corn maze. Then you gave me that little wiggle of your eyebrow that told me you wanted to play with my corn on the cob.”
“For the love of God.”
I smirk. “So hand in hand, we went into the depths of the corn maze, and when we found a spot that no one was going to traipse through, you dropped to your knees, pulled my jeans down, and went to town. I don’t know if it was because your mouth felt like a fall festival, all cinnamon and cidery, but I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard while being blown.”
She runs her tongue over her teeth and says, “First of all, your dick doesn’t have taste buds; there’s no way you’d have been able to know that my mouth was a fall festival. Second of all, I’d never do anything like that in public.”
My brow shoots up. “Wait, you’ve never had sex in public?”
“Uh, do I look like a heathen?”
“I mean…the black eye is giving you a certain vibe.”
She rolls her eyes, and I push her with my foot under the table.
“Your turn,” I say. “When was your favorite time I went down on you?”
“Never.”
“Ouch,” I say, clutching my chest. “Pips, now that’s hurtful. I’ve spent five years on the assumption that I’ve been licking you the right way. Is that why we’re really here? Because I haven’t been pleasuring you correctly?”
“You realize there’s something seriously wrong with you, right?” she says, leaning forward on a whisper.
“Babe, just tell me. Is it my tongue? Is that what the problem is? Because I can get it pierced again.”
Her expression morphs into interest. “You had your tongue pierced?”
“Yeah, for a while, but when I was trying to sell off Soda Tracker, my advisors thought it would be best if I got rid of it.”
“Did you have your lip piercing then as well?”
“No, got that after I sold Soda Tracker.”
“Why not the tongue again?”
