We left the hotel, walked to the car. “Could you cum again?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” I said. “But I’d prefer not to while driving. But you can…. You should play with yourself.”

“Again?!?” she asked.

“How many orgasms did you have?”

She thinks. “Four?”

I can’t remember. I think either four or five. But was she faking? It’s always a possibility, right? I didn’t think so. She swore not.

“So play with yourself again.”

She spread her legs – still in thigh-highs – wide,  and she began.

“Cum for me again,” I said,  as we drove through the meatpacking district. “Cum for me now.”

I kept saying it over and over and over.

Until she did.

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