James

Drifting in comfortable coziness, something penetrates my awareness….

Charlotte’s voice…

No… Charlotte’s groans…

I lie, unmoving, just listening.

It’s not just a groan; almost a gurgle, it’s throaty, deep…. Utterly delicious….

Jeez, what a way to wake…

… Sheer fucking catnip.

Michael’s voice; “That good?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

And my erection rises like a rooster ready to crow the dawn…

Is that why they call them cocks?

Peeling my lids open, Charlotte’s face is close to mine, lips peeled back over her teeth, her eyes squeezed closed in a grimace might be taken for pain…

… but we all know better than that…

Michael is distracted, trying to find something in a side drawer…

Oil? Vibe?

Help things along…

Moving gradually so as not to alert her, slipping down and in, I target her bud. Hot juices spilling over my skin, I rub circles thumb and forefinger over her hooded clit. She yells, bucks and her eyes fly open.

His eyes creasing, Michael says, “You joining us?”

“In a while. Don't let me interrupt you.”

“As if I would.”

you

now if you’re

to hear it. Good morning, Charlotte.” I ease back the hood of her clit with a thumb, exposing the small hard spike. With a finger, I press

“G’ morning Mast... Aaahhh…”

on her face for a moment, then his eyes drop as he watches himself

How close is she?

Not far off…

a little harder and her head

it easy. You’re making her

Is that right?

grunts. “Come on, slacken

I keep rubbing…

his hands, hips juddering against hers. My shaft quivering as I watch, her wail morphs to a scream and at the same moment, he pulls her to himself, burrowing into her as

Holy crap…

both red-faced, heaving and sweating. After a good minute, Michael’s eyes

“I believe,” he says, “that your Master would like your mouth around his

gaze opens on mine.

“Yes, Charlotte?”

you like

pulses. “I think Michael had it about right, but take your time.

with her

have been

Wonder what I missed…?

She sits upright…

to sit

“Um, Michael…”

his death-grip around her waist and she

Dry mouth?

did he

fuckin’

sit up, pour water from the jug by the bedside, pass it to her. She sips at it, swishing it around her mouth then passes the glass back to Michael, who gulps

what,” he says, swinging his legs from the bed. “I’ll

says Charlotte. “I’m a bit

bathrobe, winks at her, nodding her

in a respectable tent. Eyes dancing, she hooks a finger over the edge of

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