Ah. Oh, that’s interesting. Yes. Oh God. Oh my fucking God. Don’t stop, don’t stop. Lord Jesus Christ almighty. All right. Hmm. Whew. You’re awfully good, you know that?Good? How?With your hands.Do you want some wine?Wait, I’m still coming down.Is there any red left?I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Is that all right?There’s only white. Careful, it’s really full.Ah. I feel like I’m floating.You are. There’s at least an inch between your lovely spine and the mattress.Really?I’ve got a problem.What?I just want to fuck you all the time.That’s a problem? Why?Two reasons. First, my turn-around time isn’t what it used to be. When I was twenty, I could come five times a night.I can still come twenty times a night.It’s all very well for you bloody women.God, you Brits are such whiners.Where were you when I was twenty?At college in San Francisco.Where you met Mr Right.Mr Wrong.I wish we’d met then.You’re whining again.You never say that.Say what?You never say you wish we’d met back then.Sorry, I’m not a whiner.There’s more to it than that.
