Sir, I have a request. Unusual, I know: but, well, hear me out.
You and I, sometimes, we’re **Great Communicators** giving Reagan and Bonzo a run for their money. There are times for that. But there’s also time for every purpose under heaven, according to such great thinkers as King Solomon, Pete Seeger and Roger McGuinn. So what I want today is – no talking.
Fuck the bejesus out of me, Sir. Then we’ll talk.
I do know my audience, and to be precise, we’ll say the *sufficient and necessary conditions* for the **bejesus** being fucked out of me would be met when you make me come three times – so, the challenge – should you choose to accept it – well, it’s no challenge for you, Sir, you could do that in your sleep! In fact there was that one time… erm. Nevermind.
And we’ll sidebar the inevitable conversation about the nature of speech and what I’m really forbidding – are my moans of delight and pain so different from your involuntary “fuck” muttered under your breath the first time, *each first time* I receive your cock in my mouth, surround it with my lips, and take it all in? We’ll sidebar that for pillow talk and the discussion will likely make me want to sit on your face and grind my cunt into you because I love talking to you and I love fucking you and what could be better?