Will she?

The following night, I lay in the darkness wondering if it was all a dream. I tossed and turned, lying naked under the East River breeze. My nipples stiffened and I writhed as I remembered the sensations I had undergone. I drifted off to sleep, then awakened with a start. My wrists seemed tied again, but this time I was lying on my belly, my cheeks exposed to the evening air.

And then, I felt his breath, hotly sweeping up and down my back. He kissed the nooks and crannies of my spine, massaged my inner thighs, trailed his fingers through my moistening lips and indiscreetly probed my puckered hole. I winced.

He stroked and stroked my aching, raging lips, my little princeling, until I gave myself in a gush of self-satisfaction and groaned myself to completion.

I relaxed, fell back in the darkness...complete.. I thought.

Until I felt the soft fingers probe again, buttering my puckered hole with a softening cream, fingers probing, doubly still, widening my forbidden circle of desire. My flesh relaxed, as three fingers probed the dark chasm, withdrew and were replaced with the tip of pulsing manhood, a helmet of desire, which at first gently pushed against the resisting sphincter wall, then widened the clasping flesh and surged into the darkness beyond, as I clenched my fists and accepted the gathering storm.