Believe me, she knows exactly how to use it. She never even breaks into a sweat. The merest flick of her wrist and the bastard’s little sting carves into me. She has deadly accuracy, years, she says, of police firearms training although I think it is simply that she has the eye of a sportswoman. Some time ago, when she first introduced me to that dreaded implement, she had decided to demonstrate that although it might be painful, sometimes exceedingly so, she always knew precisely what she was. Frisky as hell too from what I've heard. Danielle laughed and gave Emily one of those drunken girly hugs. "Buddy come play beer pong!" Emily hollered. "Perhaps later," I said with some stammer due to Danielle bending over. I have no idea what she dropped during the hug, but her absolutely wonderful ass was taunting me hard. She didn't even bend her knees... Just bent straight down. "She's got to be taunting me. I'm going to rip those tiny little shorts off and wrap some of that lavish hair in. Bob asks me to put it on the bed, but I was not to peek in it. The bag was a little heavy but no matter how curious I was, I didn't peek. I went to the kitchen and got coffee for all of us and took it to the den where Bob and Craig were waiting for me. We sit and talk for a little while, the subject of the other night was brought up. Craig said he wished he had known about me the other night. Things could have been a little different, he would have been better prepared. I asked if what was in. But no: she managed to keep her head above water. It was a struggle but she would not let herself think about him more than she had to. She would not think of kissing him – not the simplest little kiss possible. She would not consider how her lips might gently touch his, with barely any pressure as they enjoyed that first touch. After all, she always knew that it was a certainty that she would never be close enough to breathe in his scent. She would never feel the warmth of his arm. She would.
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