Here, help me sit up.’ I said, reaching a hand for her. She reached out and grasped my hand. She waded up out of the ocean, the waves swirling aroun... her legs as she slowly walked up the gently sloping sandy shore. Even at nearly fifty she felt like she looked pretty good, but what really mattered was what the equally aged man laying naked on the blanket thought. She was completely naked, the cool Atlantic waters washing around her legs, her feet sinking into the wet sand as each wave. I have learned to be very adept with my mouth, kneelingto reach the television channel changer to adjust it at her gesture. (She hasa remote control but refuses to use it, saying that my service as a remotecontrol is all a man is good for.) Of course, I can bring her a magazine in mymouth or a napkin or anything else she may desire.This particular evening I was standing in my usual place, feeling the throb ofthe clothespins chewing up my tender skin, and my Mistress was puttering inthe kitchen,. More

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