Waking up naturally is a delicious thing. Waking up naturally in a cozy bed after a good fuck to the smell of fresh pancakes and a faint whiff of barbecue is pretty close to heaven.

It felt as if we must have been asleep for at least ten hours, so I rolled over and reached for Conner. His side of the bed was empty, but still just as warm as the sheets beneath me.

While I was still stretching, rubbing my eyes, and luxuriating in the warmth, the door opened with an abrupt jerk.

“It’s almost noon,” said Conner.

“Are we keeping them waiting?” I asked, guessing by his short tone.

His adorable aunt and uncle were graciously hosting us in their London home, and had no doubt lovingly crafted a packed itinerary for showing us the sights.

“No, they’re still working on a big welcome breakfast for us,” said Conner.

He crossed his arms and ducked his chin toward his chest, deliberately not sounding reassuring, and thoroughly gave himself away.

“Are you trying to be angry with me?” I asked.

“Trying?” he spluttered at me. “You completely humiliated me last night!”

“Yeah, I did do a pretty great job at that, didn’t I?” I said, smirking at the memory as much as his fake indignance at it.

After the same game had turned out so well at his parents’ house, Conner and I had agreed that he should wear his remote-controlled vibrating anal plug for our visit to his aunt and uncle’s. I’d pushed him a little harder with it this time, turning it up to full while we were sharing a nightcap with our hosts and leaving it that way for… a while. Eventually, Conner started sweating so profusely that his aunt scooted in next to him on the couch to feel his forehead, close enough that she could actually feel the discreet vibrations through the cushions.

I had to give her credit. For a sweet, middle-aged Londoner, she must have lived an interesting life, or at least an interesting fantasy life, because she caught on fast.

The knowing look on her face when she realized what we were doing was absolutely priceless. It was almost as cute as the look on Conner’s face when he realized that she’d realized it.

“Oh! Conner, is your young lady a…. Oh, what’s the word…?” His aunt snapped her fingers a few times while she reached for it. “Dom… doma… dominatrix? Is that right?”

“Actually, a dominatrix is usually a hired professional,” I had the pleasure of explaining to her, while Conner tried to hide as much of his red face behind his hands as he could. “I’m just an adventurous girlfriend… to an adventurous boyfriend.”

I ruffled his hair affectionately at this point. He swatted me away.

“But you’re not far off,” I acknowledged, before his aunt could feel bad. “We do a lot of the same things.”

“So, right now, you’re controlling what he’s experiencing with a… a…?”

I pulled the plug’s remote out of my purse to show her, and pushed a button. The vibrations took on a pulsing rhythm, and Conner’s aunt got to hear him react with a soft gasp in real time.

“What a clever idea,” she said. “And it’s so quiet! Would you look at that, dear?” she beckoned her husband in closer.

“I can see it,” he said from his end of the couch. His face was almost as red as Conner’s, but it seemed to be from holding in laughter.

“Forgive me,” Conner’s aunt said, while he curled himself up into a ball against the armrest. “This kind of thing would be a prelude to, well, something more private, wouldn’t it?”

“Usually,” I acknowledged.

“Right, well, we should let you go, then,” she said. “I don’t think this one can wait much longer.”

She patted Conner on the head, gathered up the glasses, and directed me on how to escort him up to this lovely little guest room.

As soon as the door closed that night, we were all over each other. Conner was so worked up from the ordeal that I barely needed to touch him. He came twice, and more to the point, he did not use his safeword at all that evening.

By the way he was looking at me now, it looked like he’d been up all night concocting an alternate version of his side of events.

“Oh, sweetie, are you looking for an apology?” I asked.

He shuffled his weight back and forth on his feet. “Yeah, I am.”

I reached for the plug remote on the nightstand and switched it on.

Conner immediately clenched every muscle in his legs, trying to stay standing as the vibration’s effects radiated outward from his ass.

“So,” I said, shutting the toy back off. “You’re saying you woke up this morning, furious with me about what a terrible time you had last night, because of the way I used your plug. And one of the first things you did, probably somewhere between brushing your teeth and ambushing me with your sulky mood, was put the plug back in?”

Conner wound his arms tighter in front of him, shoulders pulling up into a still-sulky shrug. His teeth dug into his lower lip, and I was pretty sure he was trying to prevent it from stretching into a smile.

“Babe, we need to make some changes,” I sighed. “This can’t keep happening.”

“What can’t?” Conner asked, shoulders dropping, forced anger taking a back seat to sincere worry.

“You, giving me fake feedback,” I said. “It’s not fair to me, and it’s not safe for you. Playacting in the heat of the moment is one thing, but coming at me later like I’ve actually done something wrong is another. Someday, I’m really going to hurt your feelings, and when you try to talk to me about it, I’m not going to believe you.”

He hung his head, and his face tinged with a different shade of shame from yesterday.

“But… I like being angry with you,” he said softly. “It’s one of my favorite things.”

This was the first time he’d admitted this in so many words. It was quite nice to hear him say it, actually.

I rolled my eyes and got out of bed, so that I could pat him comfortingly on the ass.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve noticed. But like I told your aunt last night, I’m not a dominatrix, and I’m not your round-the-clock owner. I’m your girlfriend, and I won’t be put solely in charge of sorting out your feelings and mine. If you want to keep playing, you’re going to have to take a little responsibility.”

“You’re right,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” I squeezed his ass and gave the plug one quick pulse with the remote. “I’m sure we can find a way to make your favorite work for both of us. For now, take off your clothes, lie on the bed with your hands behind your head, and wait for me. Either that, or you can take that plug out and go downstairs. We’ll have a nice vanilla trip and figure out the rest when we get home.”

He was already eagerly stripping himself naked as I grabbed my bag and stepped into the guestroom’s attached bath, to freshen up for the day.

#

When I returned, Conner was lying in the assigned position, his cock already slightly lengthened by anticipation, but still in its downward position.

He flicked his eyes once over my bare breasts and the thick, ribbed strap-on I was wearing over my panties, and grinned, unable to muster a convincing sulk.

I ignored his salacious expression and my own state of dress for now, sat down at the end of the bed near his feet, and rested my elbows on my knees, ready for a talk.

“I don’t think safewords are doing the job for us anymore,” I said.

“Oh,” said Conner, a little nervously. “Okay. I mean, I trust you, but I thought you were worried about—”

“No, we should definitely still have safewords,” I explained. “But they’re not enough. At least, not when it’s my turn to dom. It’s too easy for you to pretend they don’t exist. That you don’t have a say in what’s happening. Sometimes you almost fool me into believing it myself.”

He stroked my leg with his foot. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Good. My thought is, safewords are a ‘no means no’ kind of thing. We need to upgrade to a ‘yes and only yes means yes’ system. So, from now on, you’re going to have to ask me for what you want.”

Conner looked dubious. “But what if I want you to surprise me?”

“Then you’ll just have to ask me to,” I said. “You’ll say, out loud, so we can both hear it, ‘Please, Siobhan, do something shocking. Push me and toy with me and do whatever you want to me until I tap out.’ Something like that. And if I think you’re starting to forget that you asked for it, you’ll have to say it again if you want more.”

Conner rocked his head from side to side, not a shake, not quite a nod. “And when I want to be angry?” he asked.

I sighed and shifted to rest my hands on his knees.

“You’re going to ask permission,” I said. “You’re going to say, ‘I want to be a rotten little brat to you for no reason today. Will you please put up with me and ignore all my complaints? I don’t really mean them.’” I reached forward to brush his hair out of his eyes. “What do you think? Can you do that for me?”

He looked more thoughtful at this. “I guess so.”

“Good. Because from now on, whenever you catch an attitude with me, I’m going to pause the game until we talk out what’s bothering you… or until I’m convinced that it’s nothing and you know it. Deal?”

“Deal,” he mumbled with a petulant shrug. “So, may I be a rotten brat to you for no reason today?”

“Hmm…” I caught myself smiling more than I meant to at this, and I almost lost my grip on my strict-but-fair tone. It just felt so good to hear him call his behavior what it was. “I suppose so. How do you think I should respond when you do?”

“Well.” Conner brought his arms down to cross them again, while simultaneously scooting closer and stretching one leg out on either side of me. “Obviously, you’re going to have to punish me. And,” he reached out to grasp my strap-on, “I bet you could use this to fuck my attitude right back into place.”

“Hands behind head,” I reminded him, grabbing him by the wrists and leaning over him to shove them into position. The tip of my strap-on poked against the flat bottom of his plug, and I applied just a little bit of pressure. “I could do all that,” I acknowledged. “If you asked me to.”

Conner rolled his eyes, failing to repress a smile of his own. “Siobhan, baby, goddess of the universe, pretty please, fuck my attitude into place, and punish me however else you see fit. Good enough?”

“Good enough for now.”

I backed off just far enough to grab the plug and ease it out of him. Designed for long-term wear, it looked comically small next to what I was about to replace it with. I set it upright on the nightstand and reached into my bag for one of the several bottles of lube I’d packed for the trip.

As I was prepping the strap-on, I kept my eyes on Conner, every second, partly to make sure he stayed in position, but mostly to enjoy those last few seconds of pure anticipation on his face before I brought the head of the dildo to his ass and pressed slowly in.

He gasped and wriggled, first away from me and then toward, loosening himself up with a million chaotic little jerks and twitches. Then he swung one leg up over my shoulder, using it to urge me in deeper, to where the dildo narrowed slightly.

I hoisted his other leg onto my other shoulder, lifting his hips a little so that they lined up just right with the dildo’s arc.

Once he’d calmed down from the initial insertion, I pulled back and gave him a slow, firm thrust, stopping even deeper than before.

He moaned and reached reflexively down toward his cock, which was rapidly firming up into a smoother, two-thirds scale model of the large ribbed toy inside him. I caught his hands and put them back behind his head where they belonged, squishing his legs up in front of him as I leaned.

“Oh, come on!” he complained, in his unsettling imitation of real annoyance.

“Still feeling bratty, I see.”

“How dare you,” he whined, a shadow of a smirk slipping through. “That’s my cock, and I can touch it if I want to.”

“Of course you can. If you safeword.”

Conner silently pouted his lips. I let the silence stretch out, and held the dildo still inside him.

“What did you ask me to do again?” I teased.

“Punish me,” he sighed.

“Do you feel punished enough already?”

“No.”

“Do you feel fucked enough?”

“No.”

“Would you rather quit and jerk off?”

“No.”

“Then keep those hands up.” I thrusted in a little harder, and spanked the side of Conner’s ass, leaving my hand there so that I could feel him clench around the thickness of the dildo.

Being forced to clench around something hard and thick was one of the special pleasures of a sub day. That feeling of being harmlessly but unyieldingly impaled, of squeezing and squirming around the toy from all sides without even bending it, of realizing how soft your insides really were — I loved how vulnerable that felt when it was my turn, and I knew Conner did too.

His cock throbbed between us in response, making contact with nothing but his belly.

“The least you could do is touch it for me,” he said.

I thrusted in again. “No.”

Conner lay there, twisting his fingers together over his head, working so hard to do as he was told. He was silent except for muffled grunts of sensation, and by the way he kept stopping himself whenever he started to smile at me, I could tell that he hadn’t yet had his fill of brattiness.

“You’re not trying to tough this out, are you?” I taunted him. “You think you can just hold onto that attitude and wait for this to end?”

“Sure, why not?” he asked, playfully exasperated. “You can’t keep this up forever.”

“Oh, sweetie, you seem confused. It’s your dick that has a time limit on it. Mine can keep fucking for as long as I want. That’s the great thing about silicone. It’ll never finish. I might, but even then, I can keep going. I can keep on punishing this sweet ass all day long, and this dick won’t chafe, or shrink, or soften. It’ll keep on pounding and stretching you just as hard as the very first stroke.”

“Someone will come looking for us soon,” Conner noted.

“You think I care?” I teased him. “I’ll make you so late for breakfast that even your sweet, wonderful, understanding family will consider it rude.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“They can come up here and knock all they want, and I’ll just keep fucking. They can break down the door and see us, and I’ll keep fucking. Your auntie can ask me questions about what pegging is, and why you like it, and how you like it best, and I’ll answer them all in excruciating detail while I just. Keep. Fucking.”

“You’re a maniac,” Conner accused.

“Mmhmm,” I agreed. “Do you want me to stop?”

He was silent, but I was no longer taking silence for an answer. “I’m going to pull out in ten seconds, unless you beg me to stay.”

“Stay,” Conner said instantly. “Please, please, keep fucking me for as long as you want, no matter what happens.”

“If you insist,” I said, and pushed in my deepest, roughest thrust yet. It was remarkable how much length Conner’s ass could hold.

He moaned and pressed the back of his head deeper into his pillow.

“So, what else am I supposed to do other than wait?” he asked, still managing a tone of complaint. “You won’t let me use my hands.”

“You know what you’re supposed to do, sweetie,” I said. “You’re supposed to take it. Feel it. Embrace it. And when you’re finally finished with your tantrum, you’re supposed to enjoy it, like a good boy.”

Conner stuck his tongue out, and I lunged forward to bite it. He withdrew it before I could and tried for a kiss. I brushed my lips over his, just barely making contact, and then sat up on my knees again.

“If I’m fucking you for as long as I want,” I warned him, “this only ends one way. It ends with you sore and sticky and satisfied, and ready to apologize and be my sweet boyfriend again. It ends with you on your knees, thanking me for such well-placed discipline. For giving you patience, and manners, and a deeper, harder, more explosive orgasm than you could ever reach with your own hands.”

Conner made a whining sound in the back of his throat.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I said fuck me,” Conner said with grudging clarity. “Fuck me until you fix me.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” I said. “But it’s a big job. Let’s see how it’s coming along so far. How do you feel?”

Conner shrugged. “Frustrated. Like my girlfriend’s being mean to me.”

“Oh, so we’re still very far away from where we need to be then, aren’t we?” I joked.

“Fuck me. Fix me,” Conner repeated, before I could prompt him to, and I continued to grant at least the first part of his request.

“How about physically?” I asked, giving his ass a squeeze. “How’s your body feeling?”

“Also frustrated,” he complained.

“Well, that’s a start,” I said, shifting my hand to give his balls a lighter squeeze, still avoiding even the base of his shaft. “Getting nicely worked up there?”

“You know I am,” he said.

“Like you’re building to something?” I asked.

“I could be there already,” he said. “If you’d let me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I teased. “I only stopped you from touching yourself. You’re still welcome to cum whenever you like.”

“I can’t,” he moaned, twisting his fingers into his hair.

“Aww, sweetie, that’s too bad,” I said.

He moved one hand just to poke me on the arm. I put it back in place and gave him a good, sharp spank.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll learn to behave eventually. Every part of you.” I pushed in, pulled back, and when the head of the dildo was just a couple inches inside him, right in the region of his prostate, I rocked it back and forth a few times.

Conner let out his loudest moan yet. The kind of moan that belongs in a secluded, romantic cabin, far from other human ears.

“Did that hurt?” I asked.

“Yes,” he gasped. “Do it again.”

I laughed. Anal could make a person say the cutest things. I thrusted back in, pulled most of the way out, and rocked back and forth for a few more seconds.

“More,” said Conner. “Harder.”

That became the format for every thrust, a hard, punishing pass of the ribs, followed by an intimate, stimulating grind from the head.

I threw in a few more spanks at unpredictable intervals, to keep things fresh, keep his muscles contracting and twinging and alive.

Conner groaned and twisted on top of the sheet, tugged his own hair, and thrusted his hips up toward me as far as they could go with the dildo anchored inside him, silently begging to be touched.

At one point, his hands moved, seemingly of their own accord, and when he caught himself and returned them to his head, he looked so distressed that I almost prompted him for another confirmation of what he wanted.

But then the distress passed, and a deep calm seemed to wash through him in its place. He relaxed into the mattress, no longer rushing me with words or motions.

“There he is,” I whispered on a deep grind.

“Who, me?” Conner asked, in a mellow-sweet tone that confirmed I was right.

“I can see him,” I said. “My good boy’s coming back to me.”

“Oh.” Conner smiled bashfully. “Him.”

“You,” I corrected, thrusting a little slower, but just as deep.

“Me,” he agreed.

“Did you get it all out of your system?” I asked.

“I haven’t gotten anything out of my system yet,” he answered, with a sly glance down at his still unsatisfied cock.

This was definitely not true — he had leaked rivers of precum all over his stomach already — but it also wasn’t the point.

“I meant the brat,” I said, skating my fingers through the slickness on his abs. “Did you get him out of your system?”

“Yeah,” Conner sighed. “He’s gone, for now.”

“Glad to hear it. Is there anything you’d like to say to me, now that he’s away?” I asked, pulling out and pushing back in so slowly that I could feel his ass stretch and tighten around each individual rib as it passed the opening.

“Thank you,” Conner said sweetly.

“For what?” I prompted.

“Thank you for putting up with the brat,” he said plainly, without a single eye-roll or dramatic sigh.

“Putting up with him doing what?” I drew out each demanding question, each probing stroke.

“Thank you for putting up with the brat, with me, looking for an excuse to be angry with you. And then getting angry with you for giving me what I wanted. And then pretending it was real and trying to make it your problem.”

I tutted my tongue and shook my head.

“Thank you for not letting me get away with it,” he went on. “Thank you for calling it out. Thank you for finding a way to turn it around and make it sexy, instead of letting it become a real fight. Thank you for punishing my ass, instead of my feelings.”

“It is a lot more fun that way,” I acknowledged. “For both of us.”

“Thank you for making it hurt just the right amount,” he went on.

“So, you feel like you’ve taken enough?” I asked.

“Enough to fuck my head on straight? Sure,” said Conner. “As much as I deserve? That’s for you to judge.”

“Yes, it is,” I said, dragging my way in and out, even slower. “But for the sake of argument, what do you want to happen now?”

Conner sighed contentedly. “I just want to lie here and let you take care of me. And… I’d still really, really like to cum, if you think I’ve earned it.”

“Hmm…”

I pantomimed thoughtfulness for several long seconds, and longer strokes.

“You can move your hands now,” I said. “If I can trust you to keep them off your cock.”

His face brightened, and then fell, with adorable, authentic spontaneity.

Slowly, incrementally, it regained some of that brightness, as he realized how many other things I’d just granted him permission to touch.

He reached up between his knees to cup one of my breasts, hefting its weight up into the spherical shape that always amused him most, and grazing the nipple with his thumb.

“I already told you how you’re going to earn this one,” I reminded him, kissing the slight downturn lingering at the corner of his mouth. “And I’m going to have to hold you to it, so that you know I’m serious. I’d hate to look weak and lose all the progress we’ve made with your inner brat today. It’s going to be so cute, hearing you ask permission again before letting him take the wheel next time. I’m really looking forward to it.”

Conner looked dubious. He’d cum during pegging before, but never without a little external assistance.

Technically, I wasn’t sure he could get there without it, but I knew he’d been both close and curious many times before, and impatience was the most obvious force that had stood in his way. I didn’t mean to let that happen this time.

I sat up a little straighter on my knees, pushed his legs closer to his chest, and dragged the dildo in and out slower than ever, so that every rib would have to rub over his prostate in firm, clear detail as it passed. I still paused whenever the head was in place as well, to repeat the move that had gotten such a vocal reaction before.

There was a benefit to that rocking motion for me too. If I reached down to steady the strap-on with my hand, I could grind against the base a little myself, while grinding the head inside him.

Conner pinched and tugged at my nipples almost like a nervous tic for a while, as if they were a stress toy designed for the sole purpose of keeping him grounded. Thankfully, he was practiced enough with them that even his automatic, unthinking attentions felt good.

His eyes fell closed and then jerked open several times, as if the sensation were carrying him away, and he kept deciding to fight it, just to see my face again.

“Relax,” I reminded him, stroking his thighs. “It’s okay. All is forgiven. This is for you. Just let go. Let me make you feel.”

He nodded vaguely, and let my nipples go. His fingers began to wander more, briefly crossing his knees to touch my arms, and then doubling back. He glanced up at me for approval as he touched his own skin more purposefully.

“Anywhere but your cock,” I confirmed the bounds of his permission.

He grazed his fingertips tentatively up his own thighs, skirting closely but honestly around the forbidden nerves, playing with all the next best ones.

When he passed his hips and tickled his way up his own sides, I took over teasing his thighs, giving him four hands’ worth of attention instead of two.

He reached his own nipples and circled them, tapped them, and circled them again. I paused for a moment, with the head of the dildo pressed motionless against his sweet spot, so that I could watch his cock bounce in rhythm with his own touches, without interference from mine. Trickles of clear fluid ran down the undersides of his ribcage from the pool on his abs.

“Does this help?” I asked, stroking his ass, infusing the spanked red patches with particular tenderness.

“I think so.” Conner wriggled his hips, as if testing something. “I mean, it feels good, but it’s hard to tell.” He panted and rested one of his arms across his forehead. “I’m just so horny. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever been this flat-out horny before. I didn’t think it was possible to be this ready to pop without doing it. Every time I think I’m hitting the ceiling, we keep climbing right through it.”

“That’s good,” I said, reaching down to pinch one of his nipples for him. “Keep climbing with me. We’ll find the real ceiling together.”

He nodded, still trying to catch his breath. “The view must be fucking incredible from up there.”

I smiled, letting myself drink in the sight of him as if it were brand new. I watched him bite his lip and stir restlessly against the bedding, glistening with sweat, caught between an almost unbearably intense sensation, and the desperate search for an even more intense one. I admired his obedient hands as they circled around and around his dripping cock, searching for any innocently available bit skin he might have overlooked on the outskirts of its base. Best of all, when I pumped the strap-on in and out at this steep upward angle, I got to watch his face tighten with each little pulse of delicate, volatile, intrusive pleasure.

“You have no idea,” I said.

His eyes were closed, and he was too deep in the feeling to catch my meaning, or to ask me about it.

I kept pumping, kept watching.

It was just a little twitch around his eyes and lips, the tip of the iceberg that was his nervous system, but looking at that reaction gave me the same satisfaction as dipping my fingers in wet cement.

Hey, look, I exist. The things I do have an effect.

Siobhan was here.

Siobhan is here, fucking the ass of this gorgeous man.

“Right there,” Conner called to me from his sensory abyss, sounding more confident than he had of anything else so far today.

“Right there?” I asked, returning the head to the prostate region.

“A little deeper,” he helped me hone my aim. “Just a tiny bit, not even a finger joint’s length.”

I crept my way deeper, hair’s breadth by hair’s breadth, until he stopped me with the sharp gasp of dead-on contact. He gripped the side of the mattress like it was all that was keeping him from slipping off of the world, and let the gasp back out in a cry of trembling awe.

“Oh God, oh God, something…” he groaned. “I think something’s going to happen.”

“I’m here,” I reminded him, putting my hand on top of his and rocking gently, with the head of the dildo trained right on that spot.

He turned his hand upward to clutch mine.

“Harder,” he said.

I escalated the pressure slowly at first, not wanting to hurt him, or to derail this delicate process. His begging escalated faster, with desperate urgency.

“Harder, harder, right there, don’t stop, harder, please harder, please, please, just fuck the shit out of it, harder, harder, please.”

I ended up using my other hand as well as my hips to control the dildo, to keep on pummeling that spot steadily, and as roughly as he wanted it.

Seconds passed, Conner’s moans and pleas for more were constant, and I began to wonder if this was yet another false ceiling, with stories more of climbing ahead of us.

His breath came in ragged gulps, his fingernails dug little arcs into the back of my hand, until finally, one of his exhales resolved into something between a grunt and a scream, full of mingled effort and ecstasy and relief. Tremors jolted in rapid chain reactions up and down his spine and every one of his limbs.

The clear dribble running steadily out of his cock turned pale and leaked faster, though not with nearly the volume I would have expected from watching the rest of the effect.

“Oh my God,” Conner kept panting for a while after the tremors passed, though the air was moving in and out of him almost too fast to carry words at all. “Oh my God, oh my God.” He ran his fingers through his hair, down his neck and arms, probably tracing the course of the goosebumps that had risen sharp and high all over him. “That was incredible. That was more than incredible.”

“As good as the hype?” I asked.

“Better,” he sighed. “It felt like it was happening in my whole body at once. There was no part of me that my mind could go to that wasn’t inside the blast radius. There’s still isn’t. It’s like I couldn’t miss out on a drop of it, even if I tried. Thank you. Thank you so much for that.”

“For what, exactly?” I teased him gently, ready to back off if he wasn’t in a state to handle any more verbal sparring. But he caught on quickly to what I wanted him to say.

“Thank you for not letting me touch my cock,” he said sweetly. “Thanks for sticking with it and not letting me give up.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” I whispered, pulling slowly out of him. “Don’t get spoiled now. I’m not about to start fucking you like that every day of the week.”

“I don’t know if I’d survive that,” he laughed giddily.

“You say that now,” I joked. “But just watch. Next thing you know, you’re going to forget all about your nice, average, convenient dick. Like fast food next to a nice steak dinner.”

“Never,” said Conner, playfully rocking his hips just to watch his drained, untouched cock flop back and forth. “There’ll always be a time and place for drive-through.”

More fluid dripped onto the sheets with his movements.

“Come on,” I said, containing the mess under a few tissues and pulling him to his feet. “Time to get cleaned up and ready. We’ve still got a big day ahead.”

He followed me meekly into the bathroom, stepped into the nice frosted glass booth that held the shower, and let me peel the tissues back off and start the water.

I set the dildo in the sink, my panties over the towel rack, and stepped in after him.

He sighed and hummed contentedly as I soaped him up, gently and thoroughly, turning him around and around to clean and rinse every inch. There wasn’t a hint of questioning anywhere on his face, until I pressed down on his shoulders, prompting him to his knees. That was when he made a bleary “huh?” sound, requesting clarification.

“Do you have any idea how hot you are to watch?” I asked, biting him on the shoulder. “Fucking you until you cum the hard way makes me wetter than this shower, and I’m not in the mood to walk around London like a horny slut all day.”

Glowing from his favorite sort of compliment, Conner knelt eagerly in the water pooling around our ankles, and presented his tongue. Bracing my legs against either side of the shower booth, I steadied his neck with my hand and pressed my clit right to that soft, warm, waiting surface. Between his saliva, my arousal, and the continuing fall of warm water over both of us, the contact was deliciously slick.

He licked me softly, as if we were starting from zero, starting from dryness and dormant nerves, and suddenly it was my turn to try to beg away his caution.

“Skip ahead,” I said, pulling him closer. “I’m ready. I’m so, so ready.”

He hardened his tongue and worked it in a vigorous circle, more and more vigorous with each rotation. It still felt like barely enough.

He gasped for air in the heavy fall of water, but didn’t pull away to do it. I wobbled on my feet, and he pushed me back against one of the shower’s glass walls, which thankfully held firm. I needed it to keep myself upright when my orgasm struck, fast and eager. My clit babbled out well-memorized, textbook waves of pleasure, like a know-it-all college student finally being called upon, after waiting through someone else’s meandering discovery.

I had half a mind to keep Conner down on his knees for a second round, after how quick and easy the first one was. Even three of my orgasms seemed like a more than a fair exchange rate for the one I’d just seen him through, in terms of both effort and power.

But the truth was, I wouldn’t have traded a single second of fucking him. And even though it was quick, I was already shaky and lightheaded from just one orgasm fueled by that fresh memory. The water would probably run cold before I’d be ready for another.

I coaxed him upright, kissed his lips, and prompted him to help me soap myself as well.

Maybe we’d find a quiet spot to slip away later.

A museum, a monument, a picnic ground… the possibilities were endless. For now, the pancakes were calling.

***

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