”“I would like that,” she said. “And I like that you call me Kitten, even though that is not my real name, and I like calling you sir, or Mas...er.”“Either suits me just fine,” I replied. “No need to complicate it now.”“So what are you going to feed me?”“Err, probably a frozen dinner from my freezer,” I said hesitantly. I hadn’t thought too far ahead.“Oh no, not bachelor food,” she said, pulling me into a grocery store we just passed. “Let’s get some real food and I will cook you up something. She is slick from our combined juices flowing and I feel the tight pucker with the tip of my finger. I move my finger against her in a small tight circle pressing, but not penetrating, just allowing Oliva to enjoy the feeling of our combined slickness lubricate her opening.I never lose rhythm, still sliding in and out of her, feeling every inch of her inner walls as she caresses me. Her moans are more urgent now, wanting to feel my finger push into her ass, but I resist the temptation I feel. She kissed me. But suddenly she stopped, perhaps in regret. Though we spent most of our time together, we were not officially in a relationship. We had been thinking about it for months now. We were best friends ever since our high school. Her hesitation was surprising. I mean, I had seen her in her bra and even sometimes in her panties; hardly dressed at all. Most of the time she studied in her shorts and I used to flirt with her bare skin. I use to touch her bare thighs every now and then. “Yes,” I said. “Very popular these days.” “Women doing it to women?” she asked. “Not just men?” “For a man it’s more or less expected,” I said, trying to sound scholarly. “And I suppose with two women, they have less equipment to play with, so…” “Yes, perhaps we should change the subject, Ross,” she said, suddenly feeling in charge. Dorothy and I stayed out there on the loungers until the sun went behind the hedge. Then we adjourned to my conservatory and sat together on a wicker settee..