Releasing my hand, Helen turned towards the adjoining kitchen. Over her shoulder, she said, “Ben, I think I need coffee. A strong one. How about you...”My eyes took all of her in, in a new way, as she walked away. I had known Helen now for about five months. She was an attractive woman: tall, nicely proportioned, well-groomed, in her early forties. She was English, had a well-modulated voice free of any class indicators I could recognise. She was a good mixer and had bonded well with other women. . Am I liking this too much? Am I still straight?Something in the back of my mind asks why it matters.Something in the back of my mind says, "if it feels right, then do it".Suddenly, I taste something new on my tongue.It is warm, salty, i know this tastePre-cum.Have I gone too far?No, I like this taste, I've tasted it before.When ever I masturbate, When I have gone down on a girl after claiming her wetness was her, but I knew it was from me.I always look for a reason to taste my own from her,. More

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