I told her honestly, succinctly, taking another slight risk. ‘Your face, Regan. I imagine shooting my cream on your beautiful face. Always. Then wat...hing you lick me clean.’ She closed her eyes and ran a finger of her other hand over her pebble-like nipple, letting her head lean back in imagination. ‘Mmmmm, sounds wickedly tasty. I’ve never had a man cum on my face.’ ‘You should add it to your bucket list then.’ I replied quickly. ‘Maybe you’ll get lucky. ‘Tis the season.’ She giggled again,. He did not come the night of the first day, nor the second. I despaired, I admit. A woman has needs, and mine have built steadily. I worried that I would be left to satisfy myself for the rest of my lonesome life, gasping in the dark on my own fingers. Most called my hands graceful, and usually I agreed, but in the dark their slenderness was hateful. But I fretted for nothing. My thief was simply concerned with timing. The third day was Valentine's Day. I heard the old hinges shrill in my. More

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