I lay in
the sunny patch on the queen bed, waiting for my body to air dry. I had a hand
towel, but it was so warm, I got caught up sunbaking.
Outside, a
car rolled past and stopped around the other side of the house. The installed
electronics on the front door were triggered to open at the sound of my voice.
It was simple enough get the door, but since I was naked I trusted Jennifer
would chase unwanted visitors away.
I had
started venturing out into the back garden – or, actually, riding in the safety
of her pocket while she grew plants for homemade exfoliating products.
Sometimes she playfully buried me in the soil up to my neck, or chased me with
the hose stream.
As I
listened for whether the visitor was going to come to the front door, Jennifer
swept into the room. She was dressed up and made up, catching me totally off
guard. I jumped up in surprise and
rushed for my hand towel.
Seeing me
running naked brought out her silly, playful side. In three quick strides she
was at the bed, and with a soft push from her fingertips, I was swept off my
feet and pinned under the weight of her palm.
“STILL NOT
DRESSED,” she said, sighing. My chest wound was still healing and hurt a little
from the pressure of her hand,
Her thumb
was cupping my groin, and began stroking softly. She must have recently
moisturized her hands because her touch was cool and butter smooth. My brain
spaced out a little, then remembered where I was.
“I need a
second!” I groaned.
She lifted
her hand, and a cloud of perfume lowered over my head as she sunk into a crouch
beside the bed as if this was supposed to make me feel less self-conscious, but
it didn’t, because her hair was like a lustrous cascade, her short skirt showed a mile of leg that ended in a fuckable pair of
heels, and I was tiny and naked and completely hot for her.
While I
stood and stared, she said:
“GET ON IT.
WE HAVE COMPANY.”
I looked
past her, and uncomfortably through the window.
“I
noticed.”
She rose to
her feet again and said in a low, brisk voice:
“YOU MAY BE
IN FOR A GAB ABOUT AN OCCUPATION TRANSPLANT, SO PUT YOUR GAME FACE ON.”
“What?”
“YOU’VE GOT
A JOB INTERVIEW.”
My brow
scrunched in confusion.
“Since...now? What? How do you
know?”
She gave me
an ultra smooth smile.
“I KNOW
EVERYTHING. I’M YOUR MANAGER NOW; EVERYTHING FLOWS THROUGH ME.”
“Could you have warned me about this earlier?!” I hugged the towel to my body tightly,
my skin breaking out in nervous goosebumps. “I can’t give a job interview right
now, what is this even for?– give me some bullet points!”
With one
lightning fast motion, she snatched the towel clean out of my hands.
“Hey!”
Then she
took a deep breath, brought her lips right up as if she was just about to kiss
me, but instead emptied her lungs upon my tiny standing form. The powerful warm
blast buffeted my body enough to stagger me backwards.
“ALL DRY!”
she said. “NOW GET DRESSED.”
Once she
strode out, I rushed around looking for clothes. Not just any clothes but
something smart and impressive, which was not so simple for someone my size. Luckily
the designer I modelled underwear for had gifted me with a specially tailored
little suit as a gift for my work.
…And somehow,
it must have gone missing, because it was not in the obvious places, but it
didn’t make sense how I could have misplaced my best outfit. It might have been
with my stuff up in St Palma. A special courier service was supposed to be
sending my stuff down in the mail, but it hadn’t arrived yet.
I jumped
back up onto the bed and raced towards the bedside table on Jen’s side. Some of
my tiny outfits were folded in a pile up there, one of them must be the tailored suit. But even
while searching the pile I could see in my mind the suit amongst my other
clothes, stored away in the apartment.
But I had
nothing else. Every other outfit on the pile was wrong. Some of them weren’t even proper outfits, but doll clothes. I
looked at the folded outfits in dismay, faced with a very grim choice.
The sound
of upbeat chatter bounced down the hallway towards the bedroom, and next second,
Jen burst in. I flinched.
An instant
later, Samantha swept inside the room after her. I stared in dumb confusion,
and the two women stopped and stared at me.
Then
remembered I was naked.
“Not now! Not
ready!” I cried, diving onto the bed and running for my hand towel.
“JERRY!”
Jen grunted, sweeping her hair back. She marched up to the bedside table,
snatched up an outfit at random and threw it at me. I stared at it
despondently.
“PUT IT ON,”
she commanded. “YOUR JOB INTERVIEW STARTED TWO MINUTES AGO.”
They were
sitting around the dining table when I came out into the living room.
Superman’s logo was emblazoned on my chest, and the red cape flapped around my
legs.
I skipped
like a pebble over the floor, and stopped at Jen’s massive left stiletto, which
was tapping with contained restlessness, visible only to me. Her toenails shone
with a new layer of translucent polish.
I smacked
my palms down on the stubby knuckle of her big toe, until she twisted fluidly
in her seat – and without breaking the light conversation – her hand shot under
the table and plucked up my cape so fast the air whooshed out of my lungs. Then
I was flying into the air, much less impressively than the real Superman.
“WRONG
FLOOR, MISTER,” Jen drawled. “UP HERE.”
Dangling by
Jen’s fingertips, I found myself suspended like a food offering just above
Samantha’s hands, which were resting one on top of the other, on the tabletop.
The fake tan was gone and her naturally olive shade showed. She lifted one hand
and her soft fingerpads pushed up into the soles of my feet, a pointer beneath
my left, and her middle finger beneath my right, as if I was standing on them,
though I still completely relied on Jen not to drop my cape and sending me
crashing back to planet dining table.
She amused
herself briefly with the sight of me ‘standing’ on her fingertips.
“Hi, Samantha,”
I nodded, trying to act both like she was a surprise and like I’d expected her
all along. “H-How are you?”
“NO
POLITENESS, JERRY,” she said kindly, tapping my soles, seemingly in a
self-conscious effort to appear unconcerned, and her nail tips prickled my
heels, “LET’S BE DIRECT. IT’S ABOUT YOUR WORK. ACTING IS VULNERABLE; IT’S
NORMAL; IT MAKES PEOPLE VULNERABLE, BUT FOR YOU, THAT’S A PROBLEM.”
“Um,” I
took a deep breath as her probing touch accidentally tickled the soles of my
feet. “Is this a job interview?”
“NO INTERVIEW; A DISCUSSION. YOU WANT TO BE RESPECTED, I
UNDERSTAND, BUT YOU TRY TOO HARD AND END UP IN THESE UNSAFE ENVIRONMENTS, AND IT MAKES EVERYONE'S LIFE HARDER TO WORRY ABOUT YOU.”
“What
choice do I have?” I grunted. “Actors can’t work from home, I have to be on
set, in front of a camera, around normal size actors.”
Jen, still
gripping my cape, blurted at my back:
“THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU GETTING LOST ON SET OR
HAVING A PROP MALFUNCTION. IT’S A PEOPLE PROBLEM, LIKE WHAT HAPPENED AT THE
SKYROS CLUB – EXCEPT I DON’T KNOW ABOUT THAT BECAUSE YOU NEVER TOLD ME.”
I felt her
eyes staring hard into the back of my perspiring neck. Then the table pushed up
against my feet as she released my cape. I turned and looked up at her.
“That was
Farris’s idea,” I said, feeling lame.
“THEN YOU
NEED A NEW DRIVER, AND YOU NEED A NEW
AGENT,” she retorted, sweeping me around with her hand to send me in Samantha’s
direction. Now I stared up at Samantha, hopelessly confused.
She seemed
nonplussed by Jen’s sharpness, and offered me a small, sympathetic smile. I
realized she must have told Jen about Skyros.
“SO, YOU
HAD A BIG OPERATION,” she ventured, “ARE YOU FEELING BETTER?” Her fingertip
brushed my chest, and withdrew when I winced. “YOU’RE NOT.” She stroked under
my chin in apology.
“I’m basically
just my usual self again,” I bashfully pushed her finger away. “Almost.”
“BENE.”
Accepting
this, she went on:
“I WANT TO
DISCUSS AN OPPORTUNITY WITH YOU, MAYBE A GOOD THING. I’M WITH A DIFFERENT
AGENCY NOW.”
“You mean a
modelling agency? I didn’t know you still wanted to be a model.”
“NO, I
DON’T. I WANT TO BE A SUPERMODEL; RUN MY OWN BUSINESS FROM THE TOP. AT THE
MOMENT I’M WITH THIS AGENCY MANAGEMENT TEAM, MUCH BETTER FOR ME. AND, IF YOU
WANT TO MEET THEM, THEY WON’T NEED AN INTRODUCTION.”
“I have to
think about it. Is this another underwear contract?”
She
considered this, gently capturing my head between her fingertips and gently tracing
around my skull.
“IF YOU
WANT TO MODEL, SAY, LIKE ME, THEY COULD MANAGE YOU. BUT YOU DON’T NEED TO MODEL.
I AM THINKING IF YOU JOINED THIS TEAM, YOU COULD BE MY AGENT’S DEPARTMENT ASSISTANT,
AND HELP MANAGE ME. OR, IF YOU WANT, BE MY ASSISTANT, THE LITTLE MASTER OF MY BRAND.”
“Wow,” I
said, breathlessly trying to catch up. “That sounds heavy. What can I do for
you?”
“WE’LL FIND
A PLACE FOR YOU. I WILL TAKE YOU WITH ME TO WORK AND SUPERVISE YOU, AND THEN WE
FINISH AND I TAKE YOU HOME.”
“You’d have
to fly me to work,” I said slowly. “I don’t have my apartment anymore.”
Jen replied
over my shoulder:
“UM, SO, WE
HAVE A COUPLE OF OPTIONS TO MAKE THIS A THING, JERRY. WE COULD FIND YOU A NEW
APARTMENT, OR…I COULD MOVE TO ST
PALMA.”
“But what
about your job?”
“I AM TRYING
TO GIVE YOU AN EVEN CHOICE HERE, BUT I REALLY NEED YOU TO PICK THE SECOND ONE,
BECAUSE I’VE GOT A JOB TRANSFER UP THERE NOW,” she gave my back a quick excited
poke, “I’M MOVING TO A NEW PALACE AND YOU ARE INVITED TO TAKE A VERY SPECIAL
PLACE IN MY LUGGAGE KIT!”
There was
no question. What Jennifer wanted she got. And -- damn me -- I was too happy to give.
“That’s
awesome! I want to be luggage!”
*
Much later,
I awoke to find I’d been napping on the sofa. All the lights through the house
– except for the bedroom – were off, and I couldn’t turn them back on. In my
apartment in St Palma I’d had tiny rope ladders leading up to the light
switches.
There was
an empty, toy-sized black glass bottle nearby. Frowning, I picked it up.
“JERRY?”
Jennifer
called out from the bedroom.
‘Yes?” I
called back.
“ARE YOU
THINKING OF COMING TO BED SOON?”
“In a
minute.”
“GOTCHA…BUT
REALLY, THOUGH, I’M SAYING IT’S YOUR BEDTIME. NOW.”
Hearing the
concealed growl in her voice, I jumped up.
“Coming!”
I scampered
through the dark house, homing in on the only source of light, glowing from out
of the master bedroom.
The end of
the bed faced the doorway. She was sprawled on her front on the bed, and still
like a Sphinx, one arm dangling down over the edge of the mattress towards the
floor, silently watching me walk in. Her feet were up, rubbing against each
other. She was naked.
“Hey, what
happened to this?” I said, waving the toy sized bottle. It had been full of Valpolicella
when Samantha had gifted it to me. Now it was empty.
“OH…” she
let out a breath, tracking me with her eyes. “JUST A TINY SAMPLE.”
“It doesn’t
look like a tiny sample. It looks like a tiny the whole thing.”
She
giggled. Her lashes sunk and fluttered at me with suggestion.
“I SAVED
YOU A DROP,” she said, sucking her lips, “YOU JUST HAVE TO CLIMB IN AND GET
IT.”
She held
out her hand and wiggled her fingers to suggest that I only had to reach her
hand, and then she would lift me the rest of the way. I hesitated, and then her
hand seemed to grow, and grow, over me, I cowered in its shadow, staggering
back.
“No chest!”
I put my arms up in front of me, as ineffective as it was, “It hurts.”
The hand
kept coming, but now hesitantly.
“THIS IS ME
TOTALLY BEING GENTLE.” One of her fingertips inched into my shoulder. My skin
crawled with anticipatory pain.
“OKAY, ON
THE FLOOR,” she instructed, “I’LL JUST TAKE YOUR ANKLES.”
I scoffed.
“Can you
leave me some dignity?”
Finally,
she decided to grasp my head between pointer finger and thumb and lift me.
“Oof,” I
groaned, rising through the air. As I dangled, with her breasts pointing into
my face, she flipped over and lay back on some piled up pillows, and pulling
the blanket up. My limbs were pushed and manoeuvred as she literally pulled me
out of my clothes. Then I was swept under the darkness of the blanket, and was lain
over the padded mound of her right breast. The blanket trapped me beneath,
keeping me pressed to her chest, although I could still move. I fastened my
hands around the chunky red bottleneck of an erect nipple.
My hands
were cold and from outside the t-shirt, she lifted the blanket only long enough
to send my head an admonitory flick with a fingertip. I started running my
palms fast around the nipple to get my hands to warm up. Her chest seemed to
float up and down as she gave a deep yawn. She shifted, folding one arm behind
her head as I sculpted and slapped her nipple until my biceps burned. Reaching
across the bedside table for a stick of lip gloss, she said:
“HOW’S MY
GUY? BEEN THINKING ABOUT EARLIER?”
From the
other side of the fabric that tented my head, I could sense her watching me –
or, specifically, watching the tiny mound of blanket indicating where my head
was.
I replied
sincerely:
“It sounds
really big and, right now I like it here.”
She spent a
moment painting her lips with the tube of gloss.
“YUH,” she
said abruptly. “BUT BEFORE WE KNOW IT, YOU WANT OUT AGAIN.”
She was
probably right, and I knew it. She went on:
“WE NEED A
BETTER SYSTEM, SO WHAT’S THE PLAN?”
“You
choose,” I said, fixating on the darkened bulb of her nipple. When I scrunched
it between my hands, the blood vessels tapped against my palms. “I mean, you usually
do.”
“IF YOU
WORK FOR HER,” she said meaningfully, “YOU NEED TO WORK WITH ME AT HOME. GET
IT?”
When I
didn’t reply, the blanket whipped up and her hand came in and softly stuck my
face with the stub-ended gloss.
“Hey!” I
spit syrupy lip gloss out of my mouth and blinking it out of my eyes as the
fabric dropped on my head again.
“COULDN’T
RESIST,” she giggled, refreshing her lips with the gloss again.
“I didn’t
realize you both were talking about me.”
“SHE CAME
FOR ME WITH THE OFFER, BUT I MEAN, IN A WEIRD WAY, IT COULD WORK, YOU THINK?”
“You’re really
okay with it?”
“SINCE YOU
ASK, YES. YES, I AM.” I wobbled around on her ribcage as she gave her spine a long, luxurious stretch: “SHE WANTS TO BACK YOU UP AND I
THINK SHE’D KICK MORE BUTT FOR YOU THAN FARRIS DOES.”
I swallowed
hard, wondering how we were going to negotiate bathroom work breaks. There was
also a more pressing issue.
“You know
that… Samantha likes me?” my hands were working in nervous, rapid motions
around the span of her nipple, which was firm and inflamed with arousal. I worked tirelessly to keep the nipple a tight bud.
Her chest
went down as she let out a sarcastic whoosh of breath. She seemed about to say
something else, and then changed her mind.
"GOOD TO KNOW." Her tone told me she'd already figured this out.
I raked my
nails over her nipple until she made a gasping sigh of contentment.
“WE TALKED SOME
ON THE FLIGHT TO RIVERA,” she said finally, “AND WE BOTH AGREE THE JERRY
FANBASE IS A BIG PROBLEM. THEY’RE OUT OF HAND. GIRLS LOOK AT YOU LIKE THEY WANNA
SLIP YOU INTO THEIR PANTIES. I’VE GOT TO SAY, I’M LIKING THAT SOMEONE HAS MY
BACK ON THAT. AND I DON’T THINK THAT SOME PANTY SLIPPAGE IS HER AGENDA HERE.”
“You might
be right,” I said, recalling a comment she made once in her car when I suggested being driven between her thighs.
There was a surge of cool air as Jen whipped the blanket back.
“BUT IF
IT’S A BAD IDEA, JUST SAY THE WORD, I’LL SHUT THE WHOLE THING.”
“I don’t
think she’s like that anymore, but she does like to touch me a little. Just soft
petting.”
Her hand
zoomed under the blanket and unceremoniously plucked my neck up between pointer
and thumb transferred to the opposite breast. I coughed and rubbed where her
nailtip had accidentally depressed my throat, and then began swirling my hands
around the other nipple.
She went on
seriously:
“SHE’S NOT
PERFECT, BUT FUCK IT, SHE HELPED ME GET YOU BACK.” There was a soft touch to my
head from outside the blanket, “IF SHE WANTS TO PROTECT YOU FROM BULLSHIT I CAN
GET BEHIND THAT.” Her voice got softer. “I…REALLY
WANT SOMETHING BETTER TO WORK FOR YOU, BABE.."
She shifted
and I grabbed her nipple in the dark as the invisible landscape of her torso
rocked beneath. The gentle rising and falling of her chest seemed to deepen as she went quiet in thought.
"ACTING IS TAKING MORE AND MORE BITES OUT OF YOU AND THERE’S LESS LEFT OVER FOR ME.”
She shook the thought off, and said with a tiny trill in her voice:
“AND I KNOW
YOU LOVE ME MORE THAN ANYTHING.”
“More than
everything.”
“BOLD
WORDS.” Her voice rose with seductive intrigue. “WHY DON’T YOU GIVE ME A TASTE
HOW MUCH.”
The stiff
feeling spreading along my manhood was urging me on.
“Whatever
you say, I’ll do it.”
The blanket
rustled as she spread her legs and the scent of her wetness hit me like a wave.
Trapped under the blanket it quickly grew so thick I could taste it in the back
of my throat. Taking deep sucks of air, trying to strain the oxygen through the
musky fumes made my chest cramp.
“I’M GOING
TO CLOSE MY EYES,” she said, positively gleeful now, “AND YOU’RE GOING TO CREEP
DOWN AND GIVE ME SOME CLIT SUCKLES.”
The romantic notions swirling in my head expired.
“You didn’t
talk to me like this before I shrunk,” I complained. Then spluttered
helplessly, “I’m older than you!”
“I’M BIGGER
THAN YOU.”
Resigned, I
began crawling on hands and knees down her torso, like a foamy mat that dipped
subtly around the ridges of her ribs, and growing firm and taut over her
abdominal wall. It was pitch black under the blanket and there was only the
hungry scent to use for direction, becoming dizzyingly potent as I crawled in
the right direction down her waistline.
My crawling
tickled her; she took a deep breath and shifted her hips, trying hard not to
tip me off. I couldn’t help tickling her, and tried to speed up, at least to
shorten the ordeal. With a frustrated moan she shifted again, and a hand came
sweeping down her body to scratch her stomach. A nail poked my butt to urge me
lower, and faster.
Hair prickled
my palms as I made it onto her mound, and then slid off her labia and bounced
on the mattress below. I felt around blindly for the soft, silky folds of her
womanhood and began trying to push them back to expose her clitoris. Her slit
was already starting to accumulate a lining of moisture, and the slippery
labial folds kept trying to reform into
their normal position and swallow up my hands.
The tang of
her scent was so strong it felt like it was stuffed up inside my head. My eyes
watered. The pocket of bedsheet trapped me in a sauna with just her fragrant
lusting pussy and no distraction or escape. The pussy would decide to let me
escape again only after it had been satisfied. But I had needs too, and
sometimes Jen required a little prodding to remember them.
“I want to
be looking at you when I come,” I yelled out.
She lifted
the blanket and the outside light pierced into my eyes. I blinked rapidly until
I could see her face framed from between the dark masses of her thighs, and
further up, framed by her breasts. It made me feel hopelessly dwarfed by her
lower anatomy. From her perspective I must have been the top of a tiny head
lucky to poke up past her slit.
She seemed
to consider what I’d said.
“GIVE ME A
TAP OR SOMETHING WHEN YOU’RE READY, AND I’LL TAKE YOU OUT AND YOU CAN LOOK AT
MY TITS.”
“I just
want eye contact.”
She leaned
back against the stack of pillows. Her breasts lifted, rising and falling hypnotically,
nipples red and erect.
“AND I JUST
WANT YOU TO BANG ME UP AGAINST THE WALL. IF YOU CAN DO THAT AND I’LL MAKE IT
SPECIAL FOR YOU.”
“Er, thanks.”
“HEY, AIR
KISS.” She pressed a kiss to her fingertips, and then sent her hand down after
me and gently stamped my lips with a fingerpad blotched with lip gloss. Her
nails twirled against my hair and one of them gave my skull a small, urging
flick.
“GET
SUCKLING,” she said, “YOU’RE LIVING, EATING AND BREATHING THIS PUSSY.”
She gave a
leisurely stretch, instinctively tilting her womanhood at me. My tiny hands
searched around the top of her slit before hitting upon the warm swelling
indicating her clitoral hood. I began to run my hands around it in sensual
arcs, scratching and tugging it. My touch was so delicate I needed to be a
little rougher than normal.
Her
clitoris started to firm up and warm against the hood. Pressing my palms either side, I
leaned in and tried to capture the bulb with my mouth. It was soft, plush and
moist, and very warm, not unlike a puckered pair of lips, so that’s what I
pretended it was.
As I started to make out with it, she let out a delighted gasp. Her hips
gave an involuntary shudder, causing the labial folds to slip and seal around
my head like a really huge pair of floppier lips determined to suck on my skull like it was a gobstopper. I thrust my arms beneath the folds and peeled them away again, and they slipped back with a sticky, stomach-turning sound like someone licking my ears. Then it
was back to the clitoral bulb to resume the make out session.
Her hips
made a small thrusting motion toward me in the dark, and now the two wet labia came together to press to my front and stuck. When her hips drew back again, I was pulled along.
Startled, my arms thrashed for a handhold and accidentally plunged beneath
layers of slippery flesh. Her hips made another reflexive boost, this time capturing
my head and pushing me forward and down.
Herculean vaginal
muscles drew tight, forbidding my head to enter her. Instead, the muscular
contraction caused my face to get run down the lip of her slit before ending up
squashed hard against the taut stretch of flesh that was her perineum. I was on
the cusp of her ass; any lower and I would get sucked into the crinkly darkness of her asshole.
Her hips
bucked, drawing back enough to let me pull myself away. I rubbed myself against
the mattress to dry a little before reapproaching. Then I
began massaging the hood again, and french kissing the deep red bulb of her clit.
As her
arousal built, she began to issue agonized groans and let out gusts of panting
breath. The airwaves were usually dominated with her vocals during sex, which
at normal size made my dick rigid with desire, but at tiny size the
unadulterated noise could beat at my miniature, sensitive ear drums like blows.
At least this was muffled by the blanket.
“YOU’RE
DOING SO GOOD, BABY…”
Her voice
vibrated my head like a soothing massage.
The
bedsprings creaked as her weight re-distributed. Her thighs tensed and pushed,
her hips lifted, tilted upward and then plunged down, practically on top of me.
My spine whumped onto the mattress while my erection was pulled inside her
asshole and clenched furiously. Her anus was so agonizingly tight my member
began to pound for relief. She responded by letting loose a series of rippling
gluteal scrunches that utterly dominated my member. Every scrunch drew my hips
tight in between her padded ass cheeks, and did not let go for several seconds.
Then an instant of reprieve before another killer, too-tight groin hug. She was bent on orgasming now, and my dick
was being pulled along for the ride. Pussy glaze dripped and splattered on my
chest.
An orgasm
was imminent, and the climactic convulsions were underway. Another viscous
screwing and my member so tight I thought my heart was going to stop.
My tiny
manhood fought desperately to keep up with her raging sex. The anal ring pulsed
around my girth with rapid twitching tugs, coming in too fast to count. Stars
were bursting into my eye as my balls felt like they were going to explode. I
was almost overcome with an equal agony and delight, and only barely holding
back a painful ejaculation, which her anal sphincter seemed utterly driven to
milk out.
Intuiting
her release, Jen cried out:
“I AM SO
WET BECAUSE OF YOU RIGHT NOW I THINK – OH MY GODDDDD—!”
Her voice
became a long sighing moan, at the same time her vagina made a decidedly
unromantic squelching sound while ejecting a load of musky female spunk which blasted
down onto my face with a wet splat. I couldn't move an inch to avoid it; her sphincter was iron tight around my penis, shackling me in place under the masses of her butt cheeks. Trembling, I gave up my load in defeat into
her ass, and no eye contact because my world was drenched in her cum.
After what
seemed like a long time, her deep, raking breaths loosened up into something
measured and relaxed, allowing me to slip out of her.
“THAT WAS
AN ACCIDENT,” she said obviously. Something – maybe a fingertip – came
searching for my penis and gave it an appreciative little flick, which was now
growing flaccid. Then she said in afterthought: “I MEAN, A HAPPY ACCIDENT.” There was a radiant smile in her voice. “DID WE
COME TOGETHER?”