I’m begging you to let me cum,” she pleaded. “No, you will hold it until I say otherwise, you teasing slut,” I said as I continued sucking her...hardened clit. I then started to search out her g-spot. Once I found it I began hitting it constantly over and over again with me going in and out faster and faster and harder. I took my tongue out of her pussy for a minute and licked her asshole and started tonguing it good and fast. “Fucking shit master, that feels so good, I’ve never had anything in. Slut--" She breathed in sharply, not because of the name he had given, but because he had grasped the back of her silk blouse and pulled it back, firmly. She was acutely aware that her full breasts were now outlined clearly, and the clamps and chain could be seen almost as well as if her blouse was opened to the maitred d's view.The man's eyes widened as his attention was drawn to the moving fabric, and his lips parted for just a moment. He recovered quickly and looked back at Kevin, who smiled. The planning started. Then Murphy decided that a cheating fiancé wasn’t joke enough, I got testicular cancer. The surgery and chemo were terrible, but Sally was there through it all. She kept saying that it just delayed the plans, not ruined them.The cancer was caught early, but I lost a testicle and was rendered sterile. I was and am not impotent, just sterile. After a year of being cancer-free, we started planning again. Murphy decided to leave me alone.Another small delay was convincing. We became great friends. Up late, having legendary all-night chats about life, sex (or the lack thereof), music, science, and sex…typical smart-kid stuff. We’d share the occasional blow-out bender in one of our kitchens or at some local bar. Sometimes these things would overlap. We formed a jazz combo together, me playing saxophone, and got paying jobs all over the city. I introduced him to pot brownies right before a gig, and watched him giggle like mad while playing the clarinet. We’d crash.
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