“You’re a very naughty boy, Alex,” she said. “Stroking your cock while you’re in my bed, thinking rude thoughts about me.” “I’ll stop ...f you...” “Oh no, you carry on,” she said, sitting up and flinging the covers back. The air was a sudden cold pressure on my skin, but my erection still throbbed in the moonlight. I began stroking it again, slowly, as my eyes were pulled to the enormous mass of her breasts straining against the t-shirt. “You like my tits?” she said, giving them a playful. I slipped out of my business clothes and into an over-sized silk nightshirt, grabbed an open bottle of wine from the fridge, and plopped down on the couch to nurse my sulk with Merlot and a Diana Krall album. After a couple of glasses and a few tracks, I was relaxed enough to remember how much fun we had, and it made me more than a little hot. My fingers slipped inside the nightshirt and played across my nipples, which came to attention at the touch. Twirling each alternately between my thumb. More

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