You always love the house on the beach. You say it makes you feel free. Something about the light from the ocean, the way it fills the rooms; it gives the house an otherworldly quality. You say you're always happy here.

I think the house suits you. The light makes you glow, beautifully. It catches in your hair like liquid gold, sets a glow deep within your eyes like the sunset far out across the ocean.

I think the house likes you, too. It seems a happier place when you are here; it seems more filled with light than it does when I'm here alone. Maybe the light actually belongs to you after all.

The afternoon is warm and still. We have the sliding doors open and barely a breath of air stirs the gauzy curtains. I have them drawn, making the room a little dimmer, a little more ethereal. Discretion is called for today. The beach is never busy, but people use it; my neighbours, I guess they are, although everyone keeps to themselves along this coast. That's why I like it here.

I turn from the window as you enter the room, carrying the last bowl of fruit from the kitchen. Strawberries. Of course we had to have strawberries. You place the bowl on the coffee table next to the ice bucket. Your eyes widen a little as you catch sight of some of the toys tucked away on the table's lower shelf. You look up, your eyebrows raised. I blow you a kiss as I reach for the champagne bottle. "It's Truth or Dare?, sweets," I say, stripping the cork. "We have to have something to be daring with."

You grin. You have such a naughty grin; my penis stirs in my beach shorts. The champagne cork pops with perfect timing, making us both laugh. I pour quickly, two glasses. It's not too cold; good. Champagne is better when it's not too cold. I hand you a glass, my fingers lingering on yours, my pulse rate climbing. Your pupils dilate; Lord, you are so desirable... I raise my glass. "To us," I say, "and space and time to play." We clink, drink. Mumm is my very favourite champagne - a soft, rich vanilla texture underneath the classic sparkle. I hope you like it too.

I take a grape from the table, offer it to you. You hold my gaze as you approach, taking it gently from my fingers with your teeth, letting it roll into your mouth in a way that sends shivers down my spine and blood coursing through my loins. I kiss you, softly, just lingering, our lips barely touching, the sweet scent of grapes and champagne on your breath, the air crackling between us...

To business. Today was serious. Well, as serious as we get. Having discovered that neither of us had properly played Truth or Dare, we both felt we really ought to. Just the two of us. Maybe, another time, with others, but today, just us.

I sit at one end of the white leather sofa. You sit at the other, cross-legged in a nest of cushions, your long, tanned legs glowing gorgeously in the diffused sunlight. You start.

"Truth or dare?"

I sip champagne. "Truth," I reply. Your response is quick, as if you'd been preparing.

"Why do you like me?" you ask. I smile. "That's an easy one.

"Because you are sexy, sweet, soft, warm," I continue. "Because your hair is gold, the roaring red-gold of Fall gales. Because your eyes drown me. Because your body enslaves me. Because your lips entrance me, tease me, drive me places I've never been with anyone else.

"Because you have a gorgeous smile and a cute butt" - I wink; there is a line between poetry and pretension - "and because you drive me wild in bed!"

I drink again, musing while you watch me over your glass. "Yeah, that's why. Not for your taste in music, of course. That sucks!"

I catch the grape you hurl at me, pop it in my mouth, grin. "OK?"

You stick out your tongue, but you seem pleased. I hope so; it *is* the truth after all. "Right, my turn. Truth or dare, sweets?"

You toss your head, an involuntary motion I think. "Dare!" you say, a broad smile on your face. "Dare me! Dare me! Dare me!"

I put down my glass and reach under the table, lifting up the little digital video camera. Flipping it on, I raise it. "Undress," I say. "Undress while I film you."

Pictures, film are not something we're done before - but it is a dare, after all. Your smile broadens as you stand, popping out the top button of your white cotton shirt. You toss your head, splashing your hair back as you take the second button. You do it without theatre, without posing or strutting or pretending to strip, and it is oh-so much more exhilarating for that. The camera trembles a little; I hope the auto-correct can handle it.

A third button and the gap in your shirt shows your lightly tanned skin beneath, a shade of tan I simply adore. I adore your skin -touching you is like stroking warm silk, your scent is gently spiced, innocent and youthful, dangerous and musky. You blow a kiss to the camera at the fourth button, and toss your head again as you pop the final one. With exactly the right gesture you open your shirt and my breath catches. Your belly, the gentle swell of your emerging breasts fill the viewfinder.

You shrug aside your shirt, toss your head again. You are gorgeous. Your fingers pop the button on your jeans shorts and the camera gives a dangerous wobble. My penis twitches in sympathy, straining against the walls of its cotton prison. You peel the two halves of your shorts front apart and slowly, slowly notch... down... the zipper. I can almost hear the teeth clicking down one... by... one...

You let go, and your shorts slither down your thighs and over your knees to pool around your ankles. Now that was theatre, but so beautifully done - a Tony award for elegant stripping! You step out and wriggle your toes from your sandals at the same time. Carefully I zoom the camera to focus on the small black guitars on the front of your pink-trimmed white panties, just as you hook your thumbs into the sides.

Now this will play in slo-mo, projected on that big wall back there, whenever I'm here in the house without you. Smoothly, deliberately you slide your panties down, turning slowly as you do so. You show me your butt as your panties slip below the cheeks; I could gaze at it for hours, kiss it forever. As you turn back your panties are just above your knees, and the beauty of your mound hits me like a physical blow to the sternum, as it always does. You duck to wriggle them down and off, throwing them at the camera with a laugh. You miss -you're such a bad shot! - and as you stand with hand on hip, head cocked and hair cascading over your shoulder I zoom and focus on your pussy... and click off the camera.

"Mmm. You pass the dare, sweets," I grin, drinking in the fabulous sight of you, naked in the ethereal light from the ocean. "OK, your question."

You take a strawberry from the chilled tray, bite into it lasciviously. Juice trickles across your soft lips, down your chin. "Truth," you ask, licking the soft fruit and watching me, "or dare?"

"Dare," I reply. You laugh. "Hah! Right! Now you strip! But not here - on the beach! Half way to the sea, then strip naked. Don't care who's there - that's your dare!"

"Whoa!" I cry, "But I have an erection!" You cock your head again and look pitying. "You wimping out, big boy?" you ask in that tone you know drives me wild. "What was the deal - a new MacBook Air if I win?"

I laugh and stand up. "It wouldn't be the MacBook that would faze me, sweets, it would be you reminding me for the next six months: 'You lost the da-are, you are a wuss-boy'!"

"I do not speak like that," you retort, but I'm already walking to the window. I step through the curtains onto the deck. The beach is a short vault away. It's warm; it really is a beautiful day. The beach is quiet... except for two figures in the distance. I jog toward the surf, trying to figure out which way they're going. Damn, heading toward me. I could wait until my erection subsides... but that makes me think of you, waiting naked in the house, probably watching through the telescope in the corner - and thinking of you is never any good for helping my erection subside.

I burst out laughing. Fuck it! Life is sweet! I pull off my t-shirt, unpop and unzip my beach shorts and yank them down. The strolling couple are two hundred yards away, close enough to see what's what as I drop my boxers and raise my arms to the house, my penis standing proud. I wave, wait for a few seconds, then scoop up my clothes and jog slowly back. I reach the deck railing and vault back over as the strolling couple arrive at the point I stood. I look back; they're looking up at the house. I wave, and step back through the curtains.

You are in fits of giggles, a glorious, quivering nakedness on the sofa. I throw my clothes aside and stand akimbo. You nod, still giggling furiously. I bow and go to the table for a sip of champagne. I freshen our glasses and peel a satsuma.

"OK, honey," I say, throwing you a segment. I love to watch you eat fruit - even when you're not trying you're incredibly sexy. "Truth, or dare?"

"Truth," you say, controlling your giggles. You sit up, suddenly serious. "Truth."

"Why do *you* like *me*?" I ask. Your eyes glow. I think I know the answer, but I love to hear it. "Fisher," you say. I give you my half-smile and raise an eyebrow.

"OK. Well. Your penis!" you giggle again, flashing your eyes at me. I feign sadness. "Is that all I am, a body part? You make me sound like Ron Jeremy - and his is bigger than mine."

You stick out your tongue. "You know it's not just that." You pause, think. You're really cute when you think - makes you look younger, which, Heaven help me, I like. "You're a sweetheart," you say, looking at me more soberly. "You... you're interested in me. You're kind, you treat me like I'm special, like *really* special. I don't think I'm special but you make me feel that way. You take your time with me, put me first..."

Your eyes smoulder again, like embers fanned by a soft sea breeze. "Your eyes! They way you look at me sometimes just makes my knees weak. I always thought that was silly thing people write in magazine stories, but it's not. You do it to me with your eyes.

"Your hands are magical! They make... it's like they make my body sing, you know? Your lips, your tongue... Oo, I go all shivery just thinking about them... And I can't help it, I love your penis, love to hold it, feel it... love it in my mouth. Is that slutty?"

"No, babe. It's you and me, remember? We have no names, just what we feel." I take a deep, shuddering breath, controlling my urge to dive across the sofa and take you into my arms. I have to close my eyes, count to five... Our rules are strict. "OK, good answer. Your turn."

"Truth or dare?" I think a little as you reach for your champagne glass, take another sip. "Try dipping a strawberry in it," I suggest. "Don't stall!" you say, taking a strawberry.

"Truth."

Without a pause you ask: "Tell me about the Russian girl."

I look at you quizzically, but you just shrug and dip your strawberry, stirring it around your champagne glass, waiting.

"OK. Her name was Oksana, but that was her formal name. Ksyusha was what she went by, although I could never quite pronounce that properly. She often laughed when I tried; she had a streak of Slavic cruelty, I think. I met her ten years ago.

"She was blonde, wide-hipped and slim-bellied, small boobs. Twenty-two when we met. She was classically, Slavicly beautiful, a tigress -the sexiest eyes I have ever seen."

You pout at this, but I smile and continue.

"She had sex appeal. I don't mean she was supermodel gorgeous, 'cos that's not what it's about. Sure, she was lovely, but sex appeal doesn't live in a pretty face or a nice butt. It's in the *eyes*, in the *attitude*, it's a state of mind. She had that in buckets."

I pause, looking across at you, gorgeously naked, sipping champagne, your tumbled hair the colour of sunlight.

"You have that, Abby. Sex appeal. You have the magical 'it'."

I pause, nibble another orange segment.

"We were both married. We had an on-off affair for three years, then called a mutually agreed halt, and just drifted apart. She moved away and, well, that's that.

"We didn't meet often but when we did - pow! One evening we met in a bar; on the way home she blew me in the darkness of an alleyway just off the main road. She gave a fantastic blowjob... Another time we spent one glorious 24 hours together, spent the whole day just fucking and sucking each other. Seven times in 24 hours I came; I think that's my record." I wink. You seem nonplussed.

"But that was a long time ago."

I look across at you. You seem... jealous. "Hey," I say. I move across, kneel by you, open my arms, hug you. After a second you hug back. I kiss your hair, your ear, your cheek, the corner of your mouth... Your lips kiss back, caressing mine...

Oops! "Hmm! Gonna break the rules here, sweets," I murmur. I tear myself away, stand, walk around the table, take a drink.

"Yeah, OK, that's cool," you say. "OK, ask."

"Truth, honey, or dare?"

"Dare!" Your eyes flash.

"Show me how good *your* blowjob is, babe. Right here, on your knees."

Your grin returns. You spring up, kneel down, place your hands ostentatiously on your knees and lean toward me.

The first lick of your tongue runs from the top of my balls along the line of my urethra to the sensitive spot below the head. Little crackles of sexual electricity tingle through my balls as you do it again, then again, then lick slowly around the sensitive rim of my glans. Your eyes are on mine as you open your sweet mouth and slowly, oh-so slowly envelope the head of my penis with your fabulous lips. I cannot stay silent - a long, low sigh escapes me.

You suck me slowly, deliberately. The sensation is overwhelming. I feel my knees tremble as your roll the head of my penis around your mouth with your tongue, applying perfect pressure in all the right spots. I feel my juices begin flowing in earnest; I shiver as you suck them out. Your lips squeeze gently as you rock your head with perfect timing, slipping the head in and out, creating maximum stimulation around the nerve-rich ridge.

Back, forth, again and again. Your mouth is incredible. Oh my God...

You release me, letting me slip from your mouth, only to lick me again, bottom to top, then around and around the head again, around and around, driving me up and up. My penis is harder than I've ever known, my balls are tingling, tightening, my precum flowing steadily for you to flick away with your tongue. And always, your eyes are on mine, glowing deeply, knowing the power you have, relishing, delighting in the exercise of your power over my penis. I groan.

"Oh, baby, you win! You are so better than her! OK, you are better than *anyone*!" You sit back; your smile is broad, beautiful. I sink to my knees next to you. I take a chilled strawberry from the table, dip it in yout favourite clotted cream and offer it to you. You nibble, looking pleased. You should be.

"My turn," you say, still grinning and licking cream from the strawberry in a gloriously, gloriously obscene way. "Truth or dare, big boy?"

"Dare me, honey, dare me. Oh, Jeez, but first suck my cock again, suck me again like that."

You laugh, wagging your finger at me. "You break the rules, you pay up!" you say, your eyes sparkling. "OK, your dare." Suddenly your smile turns into something else, something more base, almost serious. You stand, turn to the sofa and sit. You spread your thighs. "Lick me," you say, "lick my pussy like you've never done before."

I burst out laughing. "That's a *dare*?" But I'm already moving toward you, on my knees. I scoop cream onto my finger as I pass the dish, and stop between your parted legs like a supplicant. Lord but you hypnotise me every time: the simple lines, soft curves... Your pussy is such a beautiful thing, such a beautiful, delicious thing.

I nudge your legs wider and carefully begin to smear cream between the lovely soft lips of your pussy, into your delightful little slit. You shift on the sofa cushion, pushing your bottom forward. I see your head go back, your hands curl into fists beside you as I paint your pussy with thick, sticky cream. I begin to kiss the insides of your thighs, one side, then the other, then back, each kiss landing a little closer to the hot, sweet dessert waiting for me at centre.

Kiss. Kiss... Kiss......

My lips hover, a breath away from your pussy.

Starting low, I lick you, the tip of my tongue teasing warm, sweet cream from your slit. Bottom to top, then again, pressing deeper, lapping up more cream, more you. Again, licking your pussy clean of cream, mingling with your own richer, headier juices. Again, my tongue reaching deeper, deeper into your pussy like a hummingbird in search of the sweetest nectar, the nectar at the heart of the most beautiful flowers.

Oh, what a gorgeous taste. There is no flavour like it on this Earth - a light, sweet muskiness that makes my mouth water and sends rivers of sensation straight down into my balls. I don't have your discipline, your skill. I cannot not use my hands... I raise my hands, stroking your thighs from knee to crotch, pushing them wider, then pressing my fingers delicately to your lips I open you out like the world's most exotic orchid. I spread your pussy wide, thrilling to the wet shades of pink, the tantalising passageway, the little hood of your clitoris, your urethral opening...

My tongue explores you, everywhere, firmer, more intense every second. You are wet, slickly wet with my saliva, your own juices. You are warm, flushed with blood, your colour deepening, reddening as my tongue plunders your pussy, my lips suck on your lips, on the hard little point of your clitty. You moan my name - it is the best sound in the world.

I push my tongue into you as far as I can, my face wet. I open my mouth wide, trying to cover all of you, trying to French kiss your vagina, trying to eat your whole pussy. Your thigh trembles next to my cheek, trembles and twitches. I want to see your face, but I won't leave my feast. My tongue lashes you, deep, firm, fierce. Your pussy writhes beneath my lips. You moan my name again. The again, again in one long, rising, shuddering cry...

"Ohhh!" You tense... then explode, a long, shuddering sigh, and your thighs clamp my face. I feel your hands on my head as you push me deeper into you. I cannot resist. Your orgasm rides you; you ride me; I suck your quivering pussy and drink your libation...

It's quite a while before you release me. I lean back, wiping my face and chin with a finger and licking it. "Pass?" I ask, innocently. Your hand gropes for a cushion, but your aim is still terrible. I fetch you a little bunch of grapes. You take them, eat; the glow in your eyes is the most gorgeous thing.

"So, sweetpants, truth or dare?"

I watch your face; you look into my eyes. I think you know what I want to do. "Dare," you say. "It's messy," I caution. "I know," you smile. Oh, I so want you.

"OK. Lie down, babe. Lie still. Mind the sofa!" I wink.

You lie, and I do nothing but watch you for several seconds. I love watching you move naked; there's a ripple beneath your skin as your young muscles flex, an unconscious grace in your movement.

You raise your eyebrow in questioning anticipation. I collect myself, and a few items from the table and kneel next to the sofa. I can't avoid looking at you again, running my gaze over your body, from your cute little toes up the length of your elegant legs, the still-glistening joy of your pussy, your beautiful flat belly, the swell of your emerging breasts, still pink with the flush of orgasm. Your nipples are hard.

I start with you toes. A little of the thick, clotted cream, a smear of soft chocolate fondant on each. Carefully I drizzle chocolate sauce up your right leg, knee, thigh, draw a line across your abdomen and down your left leg. I follow it with cream on your thighs, rich chocolate fondant on your pussy. Chocolate and cream, across your belly, encircling each of your nipples with a flower of rich, sweet flavour. You lie still, but your chest is heaving gently, your breathing heavier.

I sit back, set the bowls to one side.

Then I eat you.

I suck your toes, one by one, from small to big, smearing cream across my lips as I take each into my mouth. I lick your feet clean, right, then left. My tongue tracks the chocolate up each of your legs, licking the rich, sweet sauce from your rich, sweet skin. My erection throbs. Hard. Your thighs. Your thighs, cream and chocolate. I lick you clean, inch by inch. I hear your breathing, heavy, the muscles of your belly shivering as I run my tongue across it.

I suck the flavours in small mouthfuls from your belly, lingering with my tongue in your navel, lapping you up. I follow my trail across your ribs to your left nipple. Carefully I lick around it, little by little, caressing your breast, avoiding your aureole, watching your nipple harden with each breath that touches it. Hardening, hardening, your breathing heavy, becoming a gasp.

I take your nipple into my mouth and suck you hard, fiercely. You cry out; I see you bite your lip, your eyes closed. Your fists are balled at your sides. I lick around your right aureole, then flick your nipple with my tongue. Again, flick. She's hard, angry, I can hear her squeal as I flick her again and again, then take her in and suck her avidly.

You cum - I feel the shudder run through you, hear your sweet, sweet moan. A second orgasm, but I know you're still high; I want you to cum forever.

So I dip to the part of you still covered in rich chocolate. I plunge my mouth deep into the rich, dark sweetness of your pussy, and suck it up, licking and sucking, sucking and licking your gorgeous pussy. My tongue is inside you again. I push your legs apart, lean over, my face buried between your thighs as I lick your sweet body clean. I hear your cry, feel your heat, taste your pulsing juices as you cum again. Oh, cum for me honey, cum for me again and again and again!

Your arm is across your eyes when I eventually look up, your face flushed red, still caught in the throes of pleasure. I love you.

A little while passes, and you lower your arm and look at me. There's something in your gaze that wasn't there before. I stand, offer you my hand. You take it, I pull you up. Your arms are around me, your kiss is stronger, more gloriously avid than ever before. I hold your naked body tight against mine, delighting in you.

Your hand encircles my penis. Your whisper fills my mouth between kisses. "Truth. Or. Dare?"

"Dare me, darling, dare me."

You break away, turn to the abandoned bowl of chocolate fondant. You scoop it out, thick, sweet goo filling your hand, and take hold of me again. You smear the chocolate over my penis, and slowly begin to masturbate me. Your grip is firm, your fingers wonderful, the fondant making a thick, sticky lubricant. You squeeze at the top and bottom of your strokes; I feel my knees quivering as you work my penis. I don't think I've ever been as hard as I am now. My balls are aching, my penis is aching, I cannot hold on...

You suck the head of my penis into your mouth and I explode at once.

My cum bursts out; you suck it down. As I orgasm I feel you sucking my cum as my body pumps it out - the sensation is incredible, utterly incredible. The intensity of it takes me away; I find myself on my knees, with no memory of moving. I'm still cumming, hard spurts into your mouth. None of it escapes. I subside, sinking slowly backward. You follow, not letting go. You lick chocolate from my penis, mixed with my still oozing cum. You lick my head and my shaft, massively sensitive after my orgasm. I can't take it -- it's too much. You won't let me go.

"Oh Abby oh Jeez oh God oh Abby oh oh God oh baby oh oh..."

I'm moaning, crying, writhing. You're licking, sucking me, cleaning every last drop of cum and chocolate, and my penis is still hard, and it aches and it crys out, every nerve in it shrieking and you don't let me go until it's clean, until every trace has gone and I'm half-lying on the thick white rug and my penis is hard, red, angry, exhausted and desperate for more.

I can't speak, I can only look at you. I think my eyes have the same changed look as yours did - an incredulity at the utterly awesome feelings you raise in me. You are thirteen, and you own me.

You sit back to, reaching a sticky hand for your glass. It's empty. I give a deep, shuddering breath and force myself to my feet. I don't think my penis will ever subside. I pour the last of the champagne, a little too cold now, and a little flat. I don't think we really notice.

"Truth or dare, Abby?" I ask.

"Dare."

"Stay on your knees," I say. "Turn around, lean on the sofa. Stick your butt out." I move you into the position I want you in, my hands stroking the silkiness of your buttocks. I don't want you to see what's coming. "Close you eyes, babe," I murmur. "It's part of the dare."

You rest your head on your arms. I reach under the table, draw out a small tube of KY and a brightly coloured bundle. I sense you peeking; I slap your butt. "Naughty! Eyes closed." You mumble something, but your eyes close.

I take a fingerful of the slippery stuff and tease your asshole with it, round and round. I work my finger into your ass, little by little. You murmur again and shift; your back arches a little more as you push your butt out for me. Your asshole is slippery, my finger gliding smoothly in and out, your muscles relaxed, trusting.

I insert the first anal bead, the smallest one, pushing it in easily. I don't think you realise yet what I want to do. The string of the toy disappearing into your butt is incredibly erotic. I push the second one in, then rub my slippery finger across the swollen lips of your pussy, circling your clitty underneath. You murmur again, an earthier sound this time.

The third bead goes in; each, of course, is a little bigger than the last. I sense the sensation is beginning to arouse your interest. You stretch again, thrusting your butt higher. I push a fourth bead in, playing with your pussy. The fifth is over an inch across; I press gently but firmly, watching your asshole stretch as the bead disappears, watching it close down on the string. You give a little whimper. I circle your clitty with my finger. Your thighs tremble.

This time I tug on the string. Your asshole opens and the large bead pops out, eliciting an "Oh!" from you. I finger the opening of your pussy for a while, then push the larger bead back into your ass. "One more, baby?" I murmur, kissing your butt. Your reply is muffled by your arms: "Uh-huh." Your pussy is hot and wet.

The sixth bead is nearly and inch and a half, but your asshole is no so willing to be filled that it slides in without any force. Six beads in your ass! I play with your pussy, rubbing just above your clitty, sensing your tide rising again. My finger presses harder, circles faster, and as I feel your tension reaching its peak I tug the string, popping the beads from your ass one by one exactly as you shudder and cry out, your orgasm crashing home as the beads emerge.

I lick your asshole gently as you recover. It quivers delightfully under my tongue.

For a while we forget about the game and sit quietly, looking into each other's eyes, feeding each other fruit and sweet little nibbles. My penis is still hard - it seems to be its natural state around you. Your nipples seem to be in the same state of semi-permanent erection. I want to spend the rest of my life here playing with you.

You give yourself a little shake, stretch a little. You hold my gaze and eat a grape. "OK, baby boy, truth or dare for you?"

"Let's go truth," I reply.

"Hmmm. OK." You think for a little while, absent-mindedly running your tongue around and around the grape between your fingers, causing a pulse of precum to leak from me. "So. What is your dirtiest, filthiest fantasy?"

"Oh-ho!" I smile, my head on one side. "Dirtiest, filthiest? Hmm. You might be offended you know."

You shake your head. "Well," I continue, "you might, because it's not one you can help me with." That surprises you -- your eyebrows shoot up. I grin.

"My dirtiest fantasy is probably something like me being submissively fucked by... Alessandra Ribeiro and a lady called May from Bangkok."

You stick your tongue out at me. "I could easily do that," you retort. I laugh and shake my head.

"No, honey, you couldn't - you don't have a cock. They do!"

Your look of confusion is delightful. I explain.

"They are two of the sexiest transsexual porn stars in the world, and my fantasy involves them cramming their cocks into my mouth, my ass, wherever they can, and cumming all over me."

You blush! I think you're shocked! My grin splits my face. This is the first time I think I've ever shocked you. "You did ask," I say, watching, amused, over the top of my glass.

"Yeah... You're a very naughty boy, aren't you?" I wink. "You tell me, sweets," I reply. "OK, my question. Truth or dare?"

"Hmm. Truth's kinda scary," you say. "Dare."

"OK. You'll need to sit down for this one. I need good light for the camera." I waggle my eyebrows at you. You smile, rise, and seat yourself at one end of the sofa. I reach down to the shelf of the coffee table and hand you the pink Hello Kitty vibrator.

"Use that on your pussy while I film you, doll. I want to film your face as you cum."

You experiment with the vibrator, everyone's favourite little kitty-cat watching while you play, and your eyes sparkle as you settle back. I flip on the camera as you turn on the Kitty and move it slowly over your pussy. As you masturbate for me I wonder idly how long it will take you; we are both so wound up that intense arousal, orgasm seems our natural state. You close your eyes after a little while and I pan the camera from between your legs to your face. I hold the focus there, turning the mic up to catch the deeper sounds of your breathing above the buzz of the toy.

The camera records ever twitch of your gorgeous face as you masturbate, every slight grimace, smile, tic. Your face fills the viewfinder. Your colour rises gradually; you bite your lip more than once. Your mouth opens more, stays open longer as you finesse the toy between your legs. It isn't long at all before the small, intermittent sounds you make merge into one longer one - a sweet, low "unnh!". Your face contorts, contorts beautifully in a way that makes my balls ache for you. The pitch of your voice rises. "Yes," your murmur, "Yes. Yes... yeah... yeah...! Oh yeah...! Oh... yeah... oh... Ohh!"

Oh, yes! You cum, beautifully, caught on digital video in that most perfect, most intimate of moments. Now this is a home video to treasure for life: "Abby: orgasm: 28 April 2011."

"Beautiful, sweetie, just beautiful," I murmur, closing the camera.

"Oo." You shiver, casting an admiring glance at Kitty as you put it down beside you. I must remember to pack it your bag when it's time for you to go. "Oo, that was... nice. OK, now you: truth or dare? Your answer is dare, OK?"

"Yes ma'am," I grin. "Dare it is."

"Turn around, on your knees. OK, since you seem to like the idea of having things up your butt, let's see..."

I kneel obediently and soon your hands are on my butt, your finger, slippery with KY, probing my asshole. Mmm, I think. You appear next to me, offering me a lick of a long, purple latex vibrator. I wink at you and suck its soft head.

"OK, big boy," you chuckle. After a few seconds I feel the head of the vibe nudge my slippery asshole. You hold it there for a second or two, then push forward. I relax, feeling the vibe creeping into me, invading me, filling me up. It feels so good... I relax more and the thick head slips forward, filling my rectum. You turn it on.

Jeez, what a feeling. The buzzing toy fills my ass with pleasure, sending waves crashing down into my balls. Your hand is on my rigid penis, stroking it, fondling my balls at one end, playing with my slippery glans at the other; your other hand fucks my ass with the vibe...

I let myself become washed away on waves of feeling; there is nothing in my world but raw pleasure under your glorious fingers...

You fuck my ass until my face is on the rug. You fuck my ass with the vibrator until my penis is aching, dripping wet, and my voice is lost in inchoate growls. You fuck my ass with the big, purple vibe and jerk my penis until I'm utterly helpless in your hands. I know your senses tell you where I am, where I'm going. You know how far to take me.

I am gasping out loud when you stop, gasping and moaning your name over and over.

It's quite a while before I roll onto my side, look up at you. It's longer before I find my voice. "Truth or dare, Abby?"

I know what your answer will be. Both of them.

"Truth," you say.

"I want to fuck you, here, now," I say. "Do you want to fuck me?"

"Yes," you answer.

Our eyes lock. "Dare," I say, before you can ask.

"Fuck me," you say.

I lie flat on the soft, cloudy rug. You straddle me, the cool of your inner thighs against mine. I hold myself vertical, fighting the power of my erection, fighting for once against the hardness of my penis. You suspend yourself above me, then slowly, slowly descend. The head of my penis nudges between your soft, wet lips and finds the edge of your opening. I let go of it, reach up. Your fingers entwine with mine. You slide further, until we meet the point of resistance. You look at me.

"Oh Abby, sweetheart," I murmur. My eyes urge, reassure, will you on. You shiver, bite your lip and push down.

The resistance parts, vanishes. You cry out. I cry out. I am inside you, suddenly, deep inside your unbelievable heat.

It is the best thing in the world.

You lean down, down. Your eyes glisten. I reach up, up. We kiss, soft, sweet, loving.

For forty minutes we fuck - so slowly, so gently, but so, so intensely. The whole time our fingers twine; you rest your weight on me; I hold you up. We kiss, sometimes gently, sometimes so fiercely it seems almost like hate, not love. You bite my chest, my shoulders. I suck your lips, your tongue. My penis fills your vagina; our movements are small, slow, but they need be nothing more. The wave between us builds and builds. It will be irresistible. It is irresistible.

We are fused. The slow, slow rocking of your body, the gentle upthrust of mine. My penis is iron, iron wrapped in silk, iron sheathed in tight, tight silk. Your face is a mask; you are beautiful, gorgeous, incredible. You are Eve, every girl, every woman. You own me. I own you.

Our movements slow further, become tiny; tiny but unstoppable, irresistible, inexorable. I watch your face, you watch mine. I know what you feel; you know what I feel.

I am buried deep, deep inside you when you stop. Our fingers clench tight. Your grip is so fierce you hurt me. I don't care. Our eyes lock, and our climax is triggered there, in our gaze, from what we see in each other, from the depths of our beings.

Together we cum, massively. I erupt inside you, you burst around me. There is nothing except one long, crashing, rolling, all-encompassing orgasm, filling you, filling me. Your vagina grips me, grasps me again and again; I pump semen deep inside you again and again and again; and I cry your name aloud as you cry mine.

* * * *

I shiver a little as I awake. The sun is low, the sky beyond the curtains stained a deep red. You move a little next to me on the rug, still dozing, still twined in my arms, I in yours. Soon I will have to get up, cover you against the cool of the evening, close the windows, cook. Soon. I hug you close; you snuggle in your sleep. Soon, but not yet. Not yet.