Tools - Their Variety and Safe Use

Anyhow, rankings are both highly individual, and subject to change. Oftentimes, whatever one is doing right at that instant is pretty much favorite. What I like best is changeable moment to moment, and it isn't necessarily what YOU might like best at that moment... but if that should be the case, it's not exactly a big deal to arrive at a completely satisfactory compromise!"

With that, we quit talking for quite some time. When eventually she returned to earth from her high, we slow-cuddled until she tucked her face into my neck and asked softly "Wonderful... Simply FAB! What's next on our agenda?"

A fine, leading question: I was happy to instantly invent a course syllabus. "As I said, we'll be tasting, like at a winery - after all, there are dozens and dozens of options, variations on each of the Big Four. Whatever pleases you will be perfectly fine with me! I'm easy to please because I like EVERYthing!"

She sat up with my hardon in her hand, grinned at me and said "Wonderful! Perfect! And later I'll call home and get extra time for us, if you'll just invite me out for dinner like I suggested. Meanwhile, I think, personally, that YOU are way overdue for your own next orgasm." She thumped me gently on the chest with her fist, and said "You have been way too gentlemanly and way too self-controlled, just like when you didn't nuzzle my neck. So now I want, no I DEMAND! that you quit it with all the self-control! I've lost control lots of times already, now it's YOUR TURN. Hand me that foam applicator. Will it be okay if I sit on top?"

We fucked like minks -- endlessly, renewably, imaginatively. She was a superb student, and in an hour she had no major virginities left. Before mid-afternoon, I declared her fully qualified on all basic sexual tools. As we cycled through anal and pussy and oral, she admitted I'd been right about favorites: she inevitably -- much to her amusement -- declared the moment's activities to be "...OBVIOUSLY the very best possible preparation for 'things'!"

Lunch was delayed for some time, then eaten in bed with one-another's bellies as tables. Dessert was spectacular, and wholly predictable -- net negative calories, too. The leftover truffle oil got used as lube precisely where it could do the most good, and the oil being rather expensive, that led to a long, memorable conversation about the values of various things under different conditions. In late afternoon she made her call to Mom, and the plea for permission to come home late was readily granted -- but only after Brooke had passed the phone to me so I could make the arguments in person, an interesting experience, what with her practicing her oral 'escalatio' on my cock throughout the call. An exercise in self-control, indeed!

When at last (far too soon) it was time for us to leave and head for dinner at a local sushi shop -- cover story completed!- I picked up her rinsed and now dry clothing: it still showed tiny irremovable traces of blood. I held both items out and said "At least these are relatively clean again. Sorry about your little accident with the box-cutter. And I hope you can get past your Mom with those leftover blood-stains."

She giggled: "And at some point, Doctor E, we really should pause to thank your box cutter -- after all, it STARTED all this!

Still beautifully nude, she giggled again, snorted gently, shook her head as if I'd just done something mildly amusing.

Then she upended her backpack: out tumbled another pair of shorts, blouse, panties - and bra. All considerably more demure than what she'd arrived in. No prior planning on this woman's part, no siree, none at all! She looked at my astounded face, laughed, kissed me quickly. "Mother never saw me in the old, stained items today, and she'll never see them again, either. They are now your personal souvenirs of today!"

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss me on the tip of my nose, such a complete departure from our norm that I was once more startled.

"And, as to the box-cutter, well, there are accidents, and there are accidents. Some accidents, M'sieur, really aren't."

She held up her bandaged finger: "A cut finger is a small price to pay for some things, n'cest pas? Now, we need a plan. Just exactly how are we going to get together again? And it should be as soon as possible, please."