Clothes Maketh The Man — Part 38.

I was pushed into the bedroom, Mandy’s slight but powerful form driving me toward the bed. She was most insistent, like an oversexed yoga ninja that knew what she wanted and would take it at all costs.

“Darling, you’re a little insistent tonight,” I said, steadying myself as she forced me back on the bed.

“Are you going to shut up and put your mouth to good use, or am I going to get the ball gag out?” said Mandy with a cold and unfamiliar firmness.

“But darling,” I said as she straddled my chest, her chemise riding up her thighs, “this is so unlike you!”

Mandy glanced across to the bedside draw and began to reach for it.

“It’s ok,” I said. “I’ll shut up.”

With that she returned to the serious and irresistible business of taking her lover with dubious levels of consent and having him perform to her script. She edged her way higher on my chest until I was face to face with the undeniable inevitability that I would do whatever she instructed.

I twisted as she settled deeper on my face, her fist clenched in my hair and pulling painfully to ensure I didn’t shirk in my duty.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why would I even hint at reluctance in this moment of passion. And I didn’t. Well, not really. Except that…