Having this woman tell me that he had talked about my finesse at fellatio made me proud. I do take great pleasure in the pleasure I give, and knowing that he had made us come so beautifully, I now wanted to do as she bade me. I wanted to show her. Perhaps I might learn that there are some things that cannot be taught.
"I'd love to show you, but where would we get a willing man?" I teased.
"You bitch," I heard him laugh, hand wrapped tightly around his own cock.
"Look. We have a volunteer." He caught me with that half smile and that you'regonnagetit tilt to his eyes and I felt my heart racing.
"Now, if I'm going to teach you, I'm going to have to know your name."
"Dana," she said.
"Dana, are you a lefty or a righty?"
"Hmm?"
Do you prefer to be on the left or right of the man when you go down on him?" I stroked her hair, making a little physical connection with her, to remind her of when she had done well, when she was pleasing me.
"Ummm... Right, I guess."
"Then get there."
She scurried over to his right side as he stretched full out on the floor, arranging pillows under his head to help him watch what was about to unfold.
"The first thing you need to know, Dana, is that all men like this. When you do this to them, you press buttons so deep in them that even I have forgotten where they came from. For a man to see a woman's lips working his prick, the same lips that have kissed other men, whispered promises, hurled epithets, imbibed liquor, smiled sweetly, sneered haughtily, is for him to subsume all other experiences for that woman, at least in his mind.
