“You’re going to be my chauffeur. Bring your camera.”“Yes, Ma’am,” I joked, relieved when she smiled in return.“Where are we doing?”�...The pond you showed me the first day.”“Okay.” I wasn’t about to argue with her. Or ask questions, despite the curiosity that was eating away at me.She had me put on some music. Yann Tiersen specifically. I drove, taking it easy, the sky showing the first signs of twilight.I pulled the truck off the road and stopped, turning the key in the ignition. Summer was. I've watched a lot of female friends masturbate. They all touched their nipples to one extent or another, but that was the only similarity. Some played only with their clits while others placed fingers or objects inside; some had to stop completely between orgasms and others carried on stroking; some screamed and others were quiet. The list went on.But Fiona had a technique I hadn't seen before: she slowly lay on her front on the bed, head turned to one side. She carefully wedged a hand between. More

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