“Well, don’t stop!” she ordered. Paul began rhythmically lapping her clit once again, but kept his eyes locked on hers, attentively awaiting his...next instruction.“You know what works real good? If you trace the alphabet on it with your tongue,” she told him with ragged breath. “Do that!”Paul instantly obeyed, tracing the capital letter “A” over her erect nub, then “B” and so on. Marcy’s head dropped back on to the mattress like a rock. Her wanton song grew louder than ever. Her hips began to. I just made constant eye contact–my main method in those days–and asked if she was okay. I asked if it was about her ex. She had to nod at that. So the conversation got steered that way. We went out on the balcony and smoked a bowl and talked about it. She poured out all the drama that had been inside her and started crying. She laid her head on my shoulder and I comforted her. I knew I had her.Back inside, Megan’s mood was like night and day. She wanted to dance. She was. More

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