.. that I expect..." No, I know you don't.Although maybe I should just give in to my sluttiness and do it every night," Helen joked.I laughed, recogni...ing her nervous attempts at humour."I feel like I should say thank you, so thank you."Her thanks were wooden but genuine."That's ok, I enjoyed doing it." I bet you did," Helen said quickly, seizing the chance to shift the focus."So were they any of your kinks?" Maybe." I think now you can at least say yes or no.I'll leave any others alone.Which. James, eighteen, was tall, tanned and strong. His black hair was fashioned into a classic cut which reminded me of my husband. From time to time, during the hot Melbourne Summer, I let him use my pool when it was just too hot. I could see him without his clothes. His flesh. His chest was chiselled like Bernini's Michelangelo in the Borghese. When he squatted, his tight briefs did little to hide his privates. His cock, though flaccid, bulged through the fabric. I thought he was the epitome of. More

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