That came after the kisses and the spankings (first in, then out of, panties), but before the nipple-clamps, the cling-film bodysuit, and the freshly-peeled finger of ginger.

Just after the window, he pushed me onto the bed and unzipped. He intended to give me a foretaste, a little fuck, he said, just the head, just inside. A tease. He had my nipples so red and ruckled up so hard I didn't recognise them as mine.

Every time I wanted to come, I had to ask in a new way. "Please sir, fuck my ass?" And he would give me permission, because the rule is never to come without permission. When the heat of the ginger became too much to bear without writhing and whimpering, he distracted me with his cock, pressed it into my mouth, urging comfort, giving me suck. Upside down, the geometry works better because the angles become congruent: the upcurve of cock into downcurve of throat.

With time running short we built up to the final frantic fuck over several different positions. Each has its attractions, but bulling is always a favourite of mine, and not only for the busy swing of his balls and the joyful noise of his flesh slapping mine, but for the breath-taking, eye-popping force he can apply when he's on his knees behind me, pounding away at it.

Just before I had to leave, he pointed to his trenchcoat and said, "Put it on." Almost lost in it---have I mentioned that he's what you'd call a Mr Big and Tall?---I straddled him again. In a matter of minutes, he'd given me a lovely sweet, hot mouthful.

I love it when he tastes of me.



**************