Tem wondered if he would think of her the next time he did this. Would he picture her, like she would surely picture him? Would he wish it was her hand instead of his, rubbing up and down, servicing him, encouraging what grew naturally? Or would he imagine her doing other things, like kneeling in front of him, taking him in her mouth, consuming him like she wanted him to consume her? She wished she could taste him. She wondered if he would ever let her.
