None of these things mattered anymore. There was just this cock, in her mouth, pushing its way in, not asking, trying to force her will. “Submit,”...it demanded of her. But she pressed back her resistance, fighting back with mouth, with tongue, even with lip covered teeth, accepting the cock in her mouth, but only on her terms. Her fingers twisted in his jeans for leverage. His face was tight now, just like the muscles in his legs. He was so close, and she would win. She would take what she. I could only blame the drink, and the next day when I asked her if we could take some of that wine home with us, her reply had us both laughing, “Don’t you dare. It could turn me into a harlot.”The taxi journey into Manhattan seemed interminable. As I sat in the back seat and lay my head back, the driver, watching me through his mirror, said, “You look tired, sir. It’s a fair distance. Have yourself a little doze.”Maybe he was right, but my thoughts now dwelt on gloomier matters. Our love life. More

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