Digging for Home

Charlie popped her head up again to view her shrinking member. She smiled. "Frank says you can stay, you know," she muttered, as if her cock had ears. "And he did make love to us again yesterday; after he knew about you, didn't he? I know we didn't do anything new, but it's still very important. I think you may get out of this in one piece yet."

The woman let her head fall, directing her gaze upward. "House," she commanded. "Display Frank Marshall on my ceiling monitor. Any close-up facial shot will do." She dropped her head back to her pillow and looked upward at her beloved.

"I lied to you, Frank," she muttered. "I said I'd be ok if you dumped me, but I won't be. I just had another dream about you. Sometimes I think I could die happy if just one of my dreams came true. You can make me the happiest girl on the planet, Frank, or the saddest. Can I tell you how much I love you without scaring you away?"

The woman blinked as she felt the first hint of tears. "House," she snapped in a suddenly severe tone. "Play the recording from yesterday, Frank and myself in my parlor. Start where I said, 'Love my titties.' "

As the house complied, Charlie's splayed palms slid down the sides of her body, her extended thumbs grazing the edges of her breasts as they passed. The two slithering hands converged on her cock; the digits of the right locating her scrotum; the left seeking her glans.

The woman's eyes found the ceiling as a single finger found her frenum. Her hips twitched as she began to pet this most sensitive of areas. "Are you ever going to lick me here, Frank?" she wondered aloud. "It doesn't have to be today, but you will someday; won't you?"

Charlie continued fondling herself as the man in the recording ripped the jersey from the woman's chest. One of the flying buttons struck the camera lens with an audible click. "That is so hot, Frank," she whispered. "Where did you suddenly get the confidence to do that? Confidence is so sexy. I hope you get the confidence to do more, Frank; lot's more."