We left the hotel, walked to the car. “Could you cum again?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” I said. “But I’d prefer not to while driving. But you can…. You should play with yourself.”
“Again?!?” she asked.
“How many orgasms did you have?”
She thinks. “Four?”
I can’t remember. I think either four or five. But was she faking? It’s always a possibility, right? I didn’t think so. She swore not.
“So play with yourself again.”
She spread her legs – still in thigh-highs – wide, and she began.
“Cum for me again,” I said, as we drove through the meatpacking district. “Cum for me now.”
I kept saying it over and over and over.
Until she did.