‘…no…’ he managed in return, lost in the blue. Somehow, the symbol was inside her eyes, turning and looping and circling and… ‘Who am I, P...ul?’ she asked, leaning right forward so her breath blew softly over his face. ‘…Lisa…’ he returned. ‘I am your Mistress, Paul, your Queen, your Goddess…who am I?’ ‘…Mistress…’ How could he have forgotten? His Mistress rode him gently, swaying and rubbing herself against his chest. Her breasts swung underneath his mouth, and he wanted to kiss them, to suck. She started turning around to look at me in unusual ways more and more often. What I had written or described, she wanted me to do with her or to her. Renee wanted me to undress her similar to how I wrote in my stories. Renee became more aroused and didn’t want to finish the story. I could tell she wanted to read them, but she also wanted to stop and make love to me like I wrote in my stories. My writing and not necessarily me turned Renee on immensely. ‘My Lord Jim, how do you do it?’ ‘How do. More

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