‘Please, Sir, may I come?’ I gibbered.
‘I’m going to have to say yes, aren’t I?’ he sighed, and he was, because I was already there.
‘Uh huh,’ I said, or an approximation thereof.
‘Yes, go on, then.’ He tutted and rolled his eyes, but there was humour behind it all, and fond indulgence.
At last I could give myself over to the shooting sparks that heralded my orgasm. No more cruel ruination. I immersed myself in the centrifugal rush, the spread and reach of it, roaring in my ears, taking me into its vortex.
‘Thank me for it,’ he said, seemingly from some distance away.
‘Thank you, Sir,’ I said, through the aftershocks.
‘Right. Now hold on tight.’
He stood up, then, with me still attached, and lowered me on to the hearthrug. I wrapped my legs around his back and lay, floating happily, while he thrust away, good, hard strokes that almost built me up to another peak. But not quite, because he grabbed my wrists and pinned them over my head before his face contorted and his panting jerked all over the place. That moment of blissful helplessness touched me more than I could say; so uncharacteristic of him, and yet so telling. Underneath the effortlessly dominant veneer, he needed the love, needed the validation, just like everyone else.
‘Your face,’ he said, minutes later, lying beside me. ‘You have the best range of expressions when you’re being fucked. I’d love to film you.’
‘Oh, God, no,’ I said instinctively. I’d always been camera-shy. Everything-shy, if I’m honest.
‘Why not?’
‘You’re a professional filmmaker. You wouldn’t be able to resist showing it to somebody.’
He raised his eyebrows, as if disappointed in my low opinion of him, then he seemed to accept it.
‘You’re probably right,’ he said. ‘I’m a big show-off. Or, the term I prefer, an artist.’
I smiled. ‘An auteur,’ I said.
‘That’s right.’ He tweaked my nose. ‘Or are you teasing me? I hope you’re not teasing me.’
‘I wouldn’t dare.’
‘I should think not. What if I promised, solemnly and faithfully, not to show anyone?’
‘It would still exist. And, some day in the future, somebody would find it in your archive and it would be exhibited as a lost treasure. Jasper Jay’s secret porn stash.’
He chuckled and kissed me.
‘So what? We’d both be long gone. Why not brighten up somebody’s drab future with a moment of joy, captured for all time?’
‘You’re very persuasive.’
‘I know.’
We both stared up at the light patterns on the ceiling for a few moments.
‘So can I persuade you into my bed?’ he asked, yawning.
‘I think you just did.’
The morning was a strange time of half-light, sleeping and fucking, the swish of rain falling into the lush lawns outside. By the time the rain stopped, Jasper and I knew a great deal about each other’s bodies, and my cunt had been fully acquainted with his cock on three further occasions.
After the last time, he went down to the kitchen to get coffee. I lay on my stomach and drowsed until he came back, sat beside me on the bed and ran his hand over my bottom.
‘Bruises,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have started you with the strop. It’s too heavy for a novice.’