His inert body covers mine, each pore bleeding his scent into me. His hair blinds my eyes, the dark locks an artificial night. I move underneath him but he’s not ready to give me up.
Finally, Philip moves aside, yet the cords stay in place. Those magical, wonderful hands go between my legs and he uses our combined juices as lubricant. Soon I’m screaming at the ceiling as I orgasm twice in a row. Then, ready again, Philip takes me once more. This time it’s much slower, until I’m nearly driven to the edge of madness. I strain at the cords, my fingers claw at the air, tears stream down the sides of my face. Everything up until now was for my pleasure, now it is his turn. Philip takes full advantage of it; his methodical, even strokes speak to me of a master fully enjoying his slave.
When Ph
