***
If clutching Roger’s crotch is bold, I cannot find the word to describe Sunday morning’s actions.
I prod a semi slumbering bed companion.
“Roger, you know I cannot talk about work, all that client confidentiality stuff.”
He murmurs a sleepy concurrence.
“Well, there is a confidentiality which I am going to have to share with you and you in turn must keep. If you cannot agree, you’ll have to leave without your morning Mimosa and skip your leisurely massage.”
The latter is really a slow hand job, but I prefer not to use the crass description of tenderly gripping and then, in a subtle controlling manner, bringing a man to climax.
If only men knew how empowering it is for the woman.
It’s not fair to withhold s*x in gaining consent, but what else does a woman have, in the vanilla
