James tilts his chin, inhaling.
With slow, deliberate movements, he unknots his tie, then undoes the top button of his shirt. “Michael, would you like me to restrain her?” He stands with the tie offered, taut, with a hand knotted into each end.
Her body quivers against mine as I hold her close, her face now resting against mine, and my own shaft, satisfyingly constrained by my jeans, sandwiched against her spine, protests its freedom.
“In a while perhaps. I’m rather comfortable like this.”
“As you wish.” He puts the tie to one side.
Usually, at this point, James would kneel in front of her and bury his face in her p***y. It’s what I’m expecting him to do, but instead, he pulls up a footstool, sitting close by her, his own knees spread, leaning forward. His eyes flick between her face
