One, it was me. Two it was here. Not too bothered though. He reached down and made some sort of underwear adjustment.I said, “Good.”We were there,...in our favorite corner booth for only 45 minutes or so. My hand never left its duty station. Let your fingers do the walking, now I understand that old slogan. I wonder if Yellow Pages ever had. A sort of Willie and the Hand Jive thing.As we sipped our cognacs, another one-handed activity, I could tell Walker wasn’t quite there. Not a problem, I. “Hands on your thighs; I’ve got you...Swallow against me, Love.”I obey, swallowing against the head of his cock, milking it with my throat. His hands still burning in my hair, he pushes the last few inches into my throat. Groaning he pulls out slightly enough so I can breathe a moment and pushes back into my throat. “Christ, Cassandra, I’m not going to last long. You feel so damn good.”He begins pumping into my throat, my eyes watering down my face but never leaving his. One, two, three more. More

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