He went over to the stereo. “What would you like to hear?” he asked. “Got anything sexy?” “Let me see…” He finally put on an album of ja...z…perfect. I started swaying to the music when Tom chimed in, “Why don’t you dance on the coffee table? It’s pretty sturdy and I’d love to sit on the couch and watch.” So I hopped up on the table and danced real sexy, knowing that he was watching me. My dick started to protrude out of the top of my bikini, and he clapped and shouted, “Alright baby!” I touched. The other revelers kept asking my lover when she was going to dance.“Soon,” was always his reply.I noted, once more, that he was different than the rest of the group. To me, he seems perfectly at ease, as if this was his real life. I asked him if he had worked out how to protect poor young Sylva—she had really grown on me. I promoted her from Blond Slut up to kindred spirit—from the leering perverts. He only shrugged.Night fell and grew cool. “I’m getting a bit chilly,” I said to both of. More

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