both our tongues. Weâve always been pretty open, but this conversation is slip-sliding quite nicely in a whole new direction.
âJust from time to time?â I ask.
She shrugs naughtily, a little Iâve-got-a-secretlook in her eyes.
âItâs okay. Tell the doctor. Masturbation is normal. Donât be ashamed.â I wrap her in a huge hug, as if Iâm comforting her. Not because Iâm trying to touch her. When we separate, I clear my throat. âSo, seriously. What kind of intimate videos do you like?â I ask, adopting an interviewerâs tone, as if Iâm the dude on the site who asked that question.
Only, it was inappropriate from him. From me, the question is thoroughly acceptable, since itâs all in the name of scientific research.
âYou want to know?â she asks, her eyes wide as she holds my gaze.
God yes. So much. Iâm dying to know what turns you on. âOf course I want to know what floats Josieâs boat on the diddle couch.â She tosses a pillow at me. I catch it. âFine. Pleasure den. Can we call it your Pleasure Den of Personal Delights?â
âOnly if I can call the shower your Whack Zone.â
I let my jaw fall open in a shocked expression. âFine, call it the Whack Zone. Just answer the question.â
âOkay,â she says, taking a breath and squaring her shoulders. âI like male-male porn.â
Iâm taken aback for a moment. âYou do?â
âI do,â she says with a nod, owning it. âDoes that bother you? You seem surprised.â
âI was surprised. But it doesnât bother me. To each her own.â
âYour turn,â she says, lifting her chin. âWhat do you like?â
The answer is easy. âI like videos of girls getting themselves off.â
Her eyes widen, and I see a hint of desire in them. âYeah?â
I nod.
âWhy?â she asks, her voice soft but eager. Curiosity drips from her tone.
I shift, as if thatâll relieve the pressure in my jeans. But it doesnât. My dick is trying to hit a new record for hardness right now, as if itâs competing in the Erection Olympics. But I canât fault my dick. Itâs impossible to be anything but turned on during this conversation.
The tequila is helping my Honest Abe attitude this evening. Or maybe just living in close proximity to her is. For some reason, I donât feel like holding back tonight. âBecause . . . thereâs something about the image of a woman all alone, so turned on she needs to take care of the business herself. No one else has to do a thing for her. Sheâs just wildly aroused from her mind, her imagination. She closes her eyes. Her hand drifts down. She creates a fantasy in her head.â
Josie draws a sharp breath. âThat is hot,â she whispers, and her voice sounds different. Aroused.
I stretch my arm across the back of the couch and paint with more words, loving this whole new direction of tonightâs conversation. âI love seeing how wet she gets. Before she even takes off her panties. That really fucking turns me on.â
I meet her eyes, and the green irises shine with unmistakable desire. Iâm not hiding mine, either. Whether itâs us momentarily lusting for each other, or just getting aroused by the conversation, I donât know. I donât care, either. I canât separate anything right now. Iâm hard, and I bet sheâs wet.
âItâs fun being wet,â she says in a husky, smoky tone that seeps into my bones like a shot of pure, liquid lust. âI can see why youâd like watching that.â
âAnd then it turns me the fuck on to watch a gorgeous woman spread her legs, touch herself, and then make herself come.â
She blinks, then blows out a long stream of air and waves her hand in front of her face. âWow. Those seven-layer bars baked on high in the oven. It is hot in here.â
I
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