That he scripted their encounters with precision. Buying the clothes, setting the scene. She liked the way that he took control of those details. Of a...l the details of their sex life. In her head, she thought of him as a sort of rolling pin, flattening out the imperfections in her. By maintaining control over these encounters, he allowed her the freedom to be herself. To allow herself to be controlled, to be told what to do. She trusted him completely and he was the perfect combination of. What Henriette had shown me in flourish and gentle technique, Olu was accomplishing with dogged persistence and strength. ‘I’ve always wondered…’ Olu breathed into my ear, nibbling the tip of my earlobe, ‘why you were so attached to that old hairbrush of yours…’ My pussy spasmed at the sound of his voice uttering these words. My wet walls clenched around his fingers, and I came with a lengthy gasp and sigh. He kept pushing, even as I begged him to stop, making me reach a second orgasm. More

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