‘Old one of mine,’ he said, ‘seeing as he’s walking distance from home these days, thought it was best he had one while he’s making his way ...ack.’ She still did not look impressed. ‘Oh come on Cath, it’s the 21st century version of making sure you’ve got clean pants on in case you get knocked over.’ ‘Well…’ ‘Did you have one to give him?’ ‘No, but…’ ‘But nothing, you’re happy for him to walk home but not to have something to call for help in emergencies or to leave a message when he’s going to. Next Saturday, Martha Jane and I sat and talked after she made dinner and after we cleaned the dishes. Then she studied on the sofa a while. She asked me a series of seemingly unrelated questions, none of which I remember. She was not as openly affectionate as usual and seemed remote, though not at all cold.Our exchanges were brief and rather formal. She asked me about some uncles of mine who had not returned from the war, and she asked if I ever saw my Uncle Frank--my father's brother and one. But it is him, and once again I remember. And so I lift it gently and enclose it between my lips. I can taste his dried seed upon it, salty and musky. And something else I realize, I taste me, delicate and sweet. This is the flavor of our lovemaking, and as I taste I remember again how it felt when we were dancing, so long and hard against me. He sighs quietly now, and I feel it swell a bit, beginning to straighten in my mouth. I hold my head motionless but I cannot help but purse. By the time I was finished, I was ready to go, all over again. We dried each other, and I led him into my bedroom.Quietly, carefully, we explored each other I licked his balls, tongued his arse and took the whole length of his cock into my throat, sucking and pulsing around him. He was ecstatic; I loved his legs and his toes, his ears and his throat; I took his buttocks into my hands and caressed them with my fingernails. I was starving for him, I needed to eat and suck his body eternally, for.
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