“If.”
“Yes?”
“If I show you what to do, will you let me do what I want to you?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” He put his hands to his fall and began to unfasten his buttons.
She giggled. “Of course, I would have let you do that anyway.”
He laid back and lifted his narrow hips and pulled his trousers off. “You are the world’s worst negotiator.”
She undid her petticoat and wriggled it down. “Shirt off, too.”
“Now you’re just being high-handed.” But he sat up again and crossed his arms and grasped his shirt.
“Please.”
He lifted it over his head and was grinning as he threw it on the floor. “That’s better.”
“Yes. Much.”
He lay before her naked. His organ was standing almost as tall as it had been on Friday. She reached out and lightly brushed the dark nest of hair that sat at the base. How strange that George would lose the hair on his head and nowhere else on his body. Her fingers trailed down to his scrotum. What a funny soft thing, not at all like his cock. Which was not the least bit soft or funny right now.
She lifted her hand and touched the shaft itself. She ran her fingers over it. Yes, the skin was as satiny as she remembered. And there were veins visible and the top flared out. She took a firmer grasp and went up and down his length with her hand. Just once. He shuddered. She felt the shaft grow harder and larger. And yes, it was darker now.
She had done that.
“See, you already know what to do.”
“What do I do with my mouth?”
He moaned. “I don’t know.”
“You do know.”
“Kiss it,” he mumbled.
She got up on her knees and hovered over him.
“Get on my left side,” he said clearly.
“Now who’s being high-handed?”
“Please.”
She did as he asked as he shifted over to his right to give her room. “Why?”
He reached down and held her breast as she leaned over his shaft again. “So I can touch your right breast instead of your sore left one. Without fear of hurting you.”
She smiled at him. George was so considerate, as always. But he looked so serious.
“I’m not an executioner, George.” And then she turned to his cock—thank goodness he couldn’t read her mind, he frowned every time she said that word even though that’s whathecalled it—and kissed the tip. And then she kissed it again. A kiss like this seemed unlikely to produce the effect she wanted. But perhaps a deeper kiss.
“I want to tongue kiss it.”
A long sigh. His hand moved on her breast, a tighter grip now. “Yes.”
