Remembering your order, I slid one hand down to my crotch and the other up to my breasts, lying back as I started to finger and grope myself. "Do you want me to masturbate until I orgasm?" I casually asked, as if we were deciding what to watch while having dinner. I immediately wished I'd kept my mouth shut."Yes," you replied. I looked up at you, searching your face for any sign that you were teasing, but you looked deadly serious."Are you going to tie or gag me?" I asked, hoping you wouldn't consider it an insolent request. We both knew how much that would help me to orgasm.Your eyebrows scrunched together for a few seconds as you considered the options. It was as if you had become a cold machine, like those devices you tinkered with each weekend. "No," you eventually decided. "But I will permit you to use any gags, restraints and toys on yourself."I cleared a stack of books from the wooden blanket box and lifted its heavy lid, the hinges creaking. The inside smelt of the varnished. Anvil strikes inside her, turning her molten hot, soldering her. Her hands clenched in his and she felt something snap inside her. Not her hymen… no that was long gone. The heat inside her had built to a crescent and now…. her eyes fluttered and she slipped into black and felt no more. Her fingers scraped against his palms. He felt her long finger nails digging against his skin as she clenched her hands inside his. This was it. He tensed up, feeling her do the same. In his delirium, he imagined the cracks on the ceiling wiggling free and swirling together in tartaric delight. He spurted. She clenched. And the room burst into flame. Her hair fluttered back from the heat. Her red locks waved like hydras behind her head. ‘Oh… my… honey? Honey!’ Feeling her go suddenly, shockingly limp against him. He cradled her in his arms, tossing her legs over one arm and nestling her head against his shoulder. How did this happen? Was it an electrical short? The cigarette? He was almost sure that.
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