They both surrendered to the sensations, abandoning the here and now, awash in the abstract pleasure, the wordless sensuality of the moment, and then ...hey found themselves back on his bed, her mouth still around his sex, his still around hers. Neither released immediately, when they did, he reversed his position end for end so they could hold each other. ‘Holy moly,’ she whispered, ‘how’d you do that?’ ‘Just made it up as I went along.’ ‘Maestro!’ ‘I guess I have my moments.’ They may have. I would lay on my bed, naked, legs wide apart with a mirror propped up so that I could watch the transformation of the gristly pleasure button as it swelled to triple its normal size, laying back to let the strange but lovely sensations creep over my flesh as I worked it, sometimes giggling to myself when I produced a silky and slightly sticky lining to my little hole and the surrounding inner lip flesh. I will confess that the intensity of them frightened me and I always stopped well short of. More

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