Michael was thirsty, hungry, had slept only sparingly, generally felt exhausted, and had no strength at all to resist, he just looked up at Linda, see...ingly towering over him in her power and dominence, his eyes having a small gleam of surrender, showing signs of giving up the struggle.She sternly lokked Down at what she viewed as a Little piece of worthless slave, she still remembered the feeling og betrayal he had inflicted upon her with his affair with the other woman, the very reason he was. They awoke again at eleven, both drained, slipping from bed she was about to dress, but he stopped her, “No clothes…please, just for me, not today! “she smiled they kissed, then naked they made breakfast, holding hands while they ate, then soft touches as they passed in the kitchen, kisses over the washing up, before arm in arm they returned to the living room. He asked, “Is it always so tiring and intense?” she laughed that silvery laugh of hers and she said simply, “it can be as hard or as. “I’m not……..” he trailed off. His hands flopped down on his thighs and he sat back in his chair heavily. “I’m not…..” he repeated in a small voice. 'Am I? Surely not……'His breathing changed, became heavier and labored. He couldn’t be gay. It wasn’t possible. Or was it? It seemed to make some sense. He liked women, admired them for their endless beauty and bodies. All women were beautiful. But a man? A man's body? Suddenly he found himself craving something. He stood up violently and paced back. Then dragging the nipple down and stretching it again she hears his whisper in her ear, ‘That’s it baby, milk it for me. Draw it down, think of nothing but my fingers on your tits. Savor this gift from me.’ Her other hand drops to between her legs still damp from her shower, water droplets cling to her soft down. Sliding a finger between her lips, she begins to draw circles around her clitoris. Tossing her legs wider, she imagines him there before her. She knows of his desire to just lay back.
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