You stutter again, trying to maintain your composure in the face of the visual bomb I just dropped in your crotch.

“Come on Ashlee,” Michelle giggles. “I think you’ve tortured him enough.” You’re not sure if you’re pleased or upset over her trying to bring an end to this banter. But I’m undeterred.

“It’s not cheating to admit you want me,” I say. “Nor is it cheating to say you want to put your mouth on my tits.” With that, my hands cup both of my tits simultaneously, gently lifting them to show you how magnificent they are. “Well, I’ll admit it’s grey,” I continue, “but I don’t think it’s crossing the line into cheating. And I also think that if I pressed the issue, I could get you to touch them. That is of course if I was dancing on your lap.”Michelle rejoins the conversation, “But would you charge by the song Ashlee just to let him touch your tits?” The sweet torture of participating in this tempting conversation has you rubbing your cock against your leg with your wrist, pressing it as hard as you can.

“When I want to give a man a lap dance, I don’t look for money. So no, I wouldn’t charge him by the song or at all if what I wanted was for his hands to be on my tits. ”The waiter comes over with our check, abruptly ending the dialogue. You drive us all back to your place, your erection not subsiding even the tiniest bit. Michelle lights up a joint for the three of us and we talk for about 20-30 minutes, your mind racing from your thoughts about my body. I frequently look away to allow you to stare. Michelle announces she’s ready for bed, but I place my hand on your knee to indicate you should remain. I hug her goodnight, and she winks at you, inferring that she’s leaving for the purpose of giving us privacy.

“I don’t want your money, babe” I start when we’re alone. “I mean, I do want your money, in fact, I’d love for you to open your wallet for me eventually, but that’s not what I am looking for tonight.” You’re excited with anticipation of where this is going, but I linger a bit, relighting the joint that had gone out. After a few puffs, I pass it to you. “I want to give you a lap dance, and before you answer,” I stand up as I’m speaking and pull down my jeans, including my thong. I make myself comfortable on your lap. With my back to you, my ass starts grinding on your rigid bulge, I whisper, “Help me take off my top.” Off comes my camo tee.

Without any direction from me, your hands gently grip my sides. I put my hands over yours and direct them upwards until they reach my breasts. “Let’s get grey. This is not cheating, baby,” I tell you as I press your hands onto my bosom. You squeeze them while thrusting your cock upwards, hating the fact that you still have clothes on. I turn around and straddle you, lifting myself up a bit so that your eyes are level with my erect nipples. A little bounce of my body sends you into a ravenous state when you see the jiggle of my tits.

“I changed my mind, babe,” I say, looking down at your lust filled face as my index finger lifts your chin so our eyes meet. “Sucking my tits is cheating, but tasting my beautiful pussy is not!”

Be a good boy and call me, love. Tell me how the story ends.

To be continued (on the phone)…