” I said, giving you the same look back. Rolling me onto my back and pushing the covers down you said “I know exactly what I want for breakfast in...this bed.” Feeling your tongue brush against my clit, my back arched as my body automatically responded to you. Physically you had exhausted me, but my hormones were not yet satisfied and my body was on auto pilot. My body melted into you as your tongue slowly probed me, your fingers gingerly stroking my nipples. Your tongue teased me as your touch. We are monogamous. He thinks he knows everything about me, my life and my sexual escapades. He loves that I have tasted other women. He is encouraged that I am prone to spontaneous roleplay. He feigns embarrassment when I start to dance erotically on a busy street. Later, he will fuck me, telling me how hot I looked doing what supposedly brought him so much shame. It is part of the hypocrisy that is so distinctly male. Don’t wear red lipstick, baby…that’s for whores. Yet every model he. “Wow, that’s umm okay, damn.” She had no idea what to say. She could tell he didn’t want pity. She pitied the shallow girl who never got to know Jerome as a person. ‘Her loss my gain’ she thought to herself.Enjoying their conversation, she asked “When were you diagnosed? How long have you been in the chair?” leaning forward exposing a bit more of her cleavage to his gaze.“I was born with cerebral palsy. I started using the chair in elementary school,” he said without rancor. “I can tell there’s. They slid into domesticity easily, performing their toilettes side by side in front of the big mirror above the vanity with its his-and-hers sinks. French took out her blow drier and her brush, intending to straighten her hair for the day. Aidan grimaced, saying, ‘Don’t. I like it curly.’ ‘But Aidan, it’s so messy and unrefined that way. It makes me look like a wild-child,’ she protested. ‘I prefer it nice, neat and tame.’ ‘I love the wild-child in you,’ he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively..