Chapter 2

Karissa headed to the back of the bus, where she found two girls not much older than her. Runaways, she thought. Like her. A willowy but tough looking blonde. A chunkier but prettier redhead who looked a lot less confident.

“Anybody looking for you?” she asked them.

“Why would... ?” the redhead started, but the blonde interrupted.

“No. Left early. Supposed to be out playing. You?”

“I hope not,” Karissa admitted. “When do you think they’ll figure it out?”

“My mom won’t care,” said the blonde. “Good riddance for both of us.”

“My mom might,” the redhead said.

“But they won’t know where we’ve gone.”

“Uhm, bus? Tickets?” Karissa pointed out.

“Shit,” said the blonde.

“So what sent you away?” Karissa asked.

“My dad...” the redhead blushed.

“Fucking groped her,” the blonde finished. “The fucking creep had his eyes on me too.”

“Just groped?” Karissa asked.

“Yes, but...” the redhead muttered.

“I understand,” Karissa smiled sadly.

“Definitely time to go,” the blonde said. “I knew where my mom stashed her dough, even though she didn’t know I knew.”

“And she won’t be looking for you?”

“Shit.”

“How about we get off in the next city and go from there,” Karissa suggested.

“Go how?” the redhead asked.

“Hitchhike?”

“That’s not safe,” the redhead pointed out.

“Safety in numbers,” Karissa smirked and showed them the knife, safely back in its covering.

“Wicked,” said the blonde with a grin.

“Scary,” the redhead said.

“That’s the point, Cheryl.”

“I guess.”

“I’m Karissa,” Karissa told them, since it was the first time names were mentioned.

“Randy,” the blonde responded.

“Randy?” Karissa asked.

“Short for Miranda,” Cheryl informed Karissa.

“What a beautiful name,” Karissa commented.

“Whatever,” Randy muttered.

Idaho Falls ended up being the first city they encountered. All three only had stuffed backpacks, so they didn’t need to have bags gotten out of the luggage hold, thankfully.

Once on the street, Cheryl worried, “What now?”

“Let’s figure it out over food,” Karissa offered.

“Good idea!” Randy grinned.

They passed fast food restaurants, much to the other two’s chagrin. “I want a nice sit down restaurant,” Karissa explained.

“As you wish, Milady,” Randy kidded.

“How about this?” Karissa asked.

“Kind of fancy,” said Randy.

Karissa considered their youth and clothing and had to agree. Fortunately they found a delicatessen a block later. “Perfect,” said Karissa.

They talked over sandwiches, potato salad and cole slaw. Karissa avoided the pickles because she could tell they were garlic. Karissa found out about life near the edge of Minneapolis, and told them a lie about growing up in St Louis, her parents dying in a car crash, and being looked after by a groping uncle.

“You too?” Cheryl responded.

“Yeah.”

“To tell you the truth I don’t blame him,” said Randy. “You’re hot.”

“Uhm, thanks,” said Karissa, wondering about Randy’s orientation, but decided not to ask. Mostly because Randy blushed and looked cautiously at Cheryl.

“That’s still no excuse,” Cheryl pouted.

“Yeah,” said Randy.

When they finished, Karissa told them, “Why don’t you guys have dessert.” She plucked out a couple twenties.

“Going somewhere?” Randy asked defensively.

“Hopefully find a ride out of town,” Karissa smiled. “So we can start hitchhiking.”

“How are you going to do that?” Chery asked.

“Let me worry about that, okay?”

“Okay,” Cheryl said.

“I’ll be back soon,” Karissa promised.

“You’re not just leaving us?” Randy asked, gazing at Karissa.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“I guess we can manage,” said Randy.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Okay. We’ll wait. But not forever.”

“An hour? Should be less.”

“Fine.”

“Maybe have coffee if you like coffee and pay the bill. Give the waitress an extra tip.”

“What kind of tip?” Randy asked.

“Maybe twenty-five percent?”

“That much?”

“So she doesn’t bug you if you have to wait.”

“Okay.”

Just to be sure, Karissa found their waitress and let her know the other two would want dessert, but needed to wait for her to get back from some errands. “If you’re worried, have them pay when they order their desserts and coffee. I left money on the table.”

“I should be more trusting,” the waitress admitted. “But the blonde one looks like she just might run off.”

“She probably wouldn’t, but I understand.”

On their journey looking to eat, Karissa had noticed a large hardware store. It was near closing, but she hoped there’d be guys still there willing to give them a lift out of town. Whatever it took.

Two of the guys looked promising, but one ended up having probably his wife follow him, and the other had kids. But just past the hardware store was an art supply store, and she watched an older man walk out of it with some rolled up canvas, a stretcher and a bag. Hands full. She quickly hopped up to him when he got to his small pick-up truck.

“Excuse me,” she said. She’d removed her disguise and saw his stunned reaction.

“Oh hi,” he managed to say.

“Do you happen to live outside town?”

“I do actually. Kind of near the falls.”

“Idaho Falls?”

“No,” he chuckled. “Shoshone Falls.”

“My girlfriends and I would appreciate a ride. I’m willing to offer you anything for it.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Would you model for me?”

“Model?”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough?”

“Not legally,” he laughed.

“Are you gay or something?”

“Nope.”

“Then you’ve had trouble.”

“Yes. I used to teach art. One of my students decided to have a crush on me. When I didn’t do anything about it, she accused me of statutory rape. I lost my job and my wife because of it, even though there was no proof and she eventually fessed up.”

“And your wife didn’t come back?”

“She didn’t trust me,” he shrugged.

“What would this modeling entail?”

“I could just take pictures, but I’d prefer it if you’d sit for me.”

“Sit how?”

“However you wanted.”

“Nude?”

“I’d have to drape you because you are definitely underage.”

“But you wouldn’t mind?”

“No I wouldn’t, to tell you the truth.”

“How long?”

“Maybe two or three days? I could show you the falls too. They’re really quite spectacular.”

“Do you have room for three girls?”

“I have camping gear and a futon,” he nodded.

“And room in your bed?”

“Maybe not such a good idea.”

She smiled and winked. He shook his head and sighed, though managed a smile.

“Okay?” she asked.

“Okay.”

“Cool. You know the delicatessen a couple blocks away.”

“Sure.”

“Then let’s go!”

Not surprising, Cheryl preferred the cabin of the truck. Karissa sat with Randy in the truck’s bed.

“He a groper?” Randy asked.

“Nope,” Karissa replied emphatically.

“Like I said...”

“You gay?” Karissa asked her.

“Yeah,” Randy admitted.

“Does Cheryl know?”

“Sadly no. And I don’t want to risk it.”

“Maybe a conversation about sex. Like what she might fantasize. And maybe slide in the part about being with a woman.”

Randy nodded. “Maybe.”

“If you want, and we can find some alone time, we could get together.”

“You’re gay too?”

“I don’t what I am yet. I’ve never had sex. But I have feeling I’m omnisexual.”

They laughed.

They drove for nearly three hours. The landscape was lovely, so they didn’t mind, despite the bouncing. They were somewhat padded, Karissa more than Randy.

It became even more bouncy when Joe, the artist, drove on a dirt road for a quarter of a mile. He stopped in front of a quaint cabin about the size of a double wide. It was built in a clearing surrounded by tall trees. A stream could be heard rushing relentlessly nearby, a soft, comforting white noise.

“Did you build this yourself?” Karissa asked when the two girls ambled out of the truck bed, Joe helping them down from the back with a hand. Both girls rubbed their tushes.

“With a lot of help,” Joe chuckled.

He unlocked the door and led them into a small living room. A comfortable looking futon couch with a colorful covering, a Navajo design. Two Adirondack chairs. A roughhewn table in front of them. A wood stove in the back corner where his bedroom was, which he began feeding from a stack of small quartered logs.

“Make yourselves at home,” he said. “There’s some food in the fridge. Some meals in the freezer as well you can nuke.”

“You have power?” Karissa asked.

He had gotten the fire started and closed the door to the stove, wiping his hands on his jeans. He turned to her and smiled. “I’m actually an engineer, and one of my patents is spinning in the stream you heard. My main thing is renewable energy sources for personal use. One of my devices sits atop the chimney pipe of the stove. You noticed the solar panels on the roof.” Karissa nodded. “Not mine of course, but I developed a way to take in the various sources where it senses which one or which ones are bringing in the most energy. For instance, the trees and clouds limit the solar energy, and of course the device on the chimney only works when the stove is lit.”

“Wouldn’t it get sooty?” Karissa asked.

“It’s coated with another patented material. And it’s self-cleaning as well.”

“So you’re able to live independently not from selling your art?”

“Hardly,” he chuckled. “Though I have sold some of my paintings.”

He had some on the walls. Mostly three foot by five foot rectangles. Gradients in the background, for instance dark to light blue, or orange to yellow. The gradients weren’t quite even, creating a subtle ripple effect. But they were methodically done. Brushstrokes only visible up close. And in the foreground, local flora, some local fauna, like a deer, and a figure. A woman. Except one that was obviously a self-portrait. Not quite realistic but close, except the coloring, which seemed more expressive than real. Karissa found them quite beautiful.

“Where do you paint?” she asked.

“Another cabin, or more a shed,” he grinned. “Pre-fab, so all I had to do was assemble it. I’ll show it to you soon.”

“Since I’ll be modelling for you, I guess you will.”

They laughed.

She followed him into the small kitchen. Her new friends had poured themselves some juice, pomegranate, and had settled back on the futon. The kitchen was about the same size as the bedroom, left of the front door. Between the rooms was a small bathroom.

“I think I’ll make a stir fry,” Joe decided. “Unfortunately I don’t think I have enough for all of you.”

“Don’t worry,” Karissa smiled. “We’ll manage. Can I help?”

“Of course.”

She’d done most of the cooking for the whorehouse when the old former prostitute who’d been the cook died. Before her death, she’d shown Karissa how to cook. Karissa had also done a lot of the cleaning. A bit of a Cinderella, but she never minded. It kept her from being seen by the clients, which had been Madam’s intent. Her beauty, even as a girl, could be disturbing, not just in attracting too much attention but being compared to the other ladies, who would inevitably look comparatively wanting.

Just as he began pulling out the ingredients, they heard a distant rumble. “Shit, I better put my purchases away.”

“I’ll help,” said Karissa.

“Thanks.”

She carried the bag, Joe the stretcher and canvas. The path was lit dimly by solar fed red lights, looking like mini tiki torches. Dusk had turned to night. “Yours?” Karissa asked, gesturing to one planted along the way.

“Store bought,” he chuckled.

He unlocked the door to what Karissa decided looked like a metal shack, with a corrugated roof that tilted forward like a lean to. The air felt stifling inside, not the least of it was the smell of paint.

“Just a second,” he said, setting down his stuff. He went back outside, opening the glass windows and propping them so they angled out at the bottom. They had screens so as to keep out the bugs. A screen door let him keep the door open as well. The overhang of the metal roof would hopefully keep out the rain.

The room was long and shallow. Near the entrance sat a bench, with a couple lights on tripods around it, and across from it an empty easel and a high stool, a small table beside the stool held a painter’s palate and a cup. Along the front some paintings rested faced away on their sides. Some boxes looked to hold fabric and other smaller things. On the back wall was an industrial sink and pintsized cans of paint. A couple gallon cans as well, the drippings on one showed it to be white paint. The other had yellowish clear drips. Sizer. Also a gallon can of turpentine. A table beside the sink held several slim paint brushes of various sizes. Some rested in what looked like tall mugs. There was a door at the middle.

“My darkroom,” Joe explained. “Shots of the models but also some art photos I do.”

Heavy drops of rain began pounding on the roof.

“Should we head back?” he asked.

“Or I could start modeling,” she smirked, playing with the zipper of her sweat shirt/jacket.

“Unfortunately I’m starved,” he told her. Rummaging through a box, he pulled out an odd leather jacket. Old fashioned short waste in front with tails at the back. “Here. Wear this for the rain.”

“Very cool,” she smiled, putting it on and buttoning it. Wider than her except where her breasts pressed a little, and reaching past her crotch in front, the tails nearly touched the floor.

“It’ll do,” he nodded. “Let’s go.”

She pulled her hood over her head, and followed him out into the heavy rain. Puddles were already beginning to form on the path, shallowly splashing at their feet. Hurrying made the journey back much briefer than the journey there. They were soon entering the dry cabin.

“Whoah, cool,” said Randy about the jacket.

“It’d probably fit you better,” Karissa said, unbuttoning.

“Maybe let it dry off,” said Joe.

“Probably right,” Karissa agreed. She hung it on the wooden coat tree next to Joe’s jacket and followed him into the kitchen.

While she started chopping the green onion for him, Randy asked from the main room, “Does this fold out?”

“Just a second,” said Joe. He finished pouring the soy sauce in the Pyrex pie plate he was using to marinate the meat.

Karissa watched Joe struggle with the transforming mechanism of the futon while she crushed garlic in a press. The kitchen was open to the main room, defined by the more cleanable parquet flooring as compared to the wood slats flooring, and the heavy roughhewn square wooden table with matching chairs at each side. Once he finally got the futon to become flat, he opened a trunk that had been stashed behind it and pulled from it sheets, a quilt and a couple of pillows.

“We’ll take care of the rest,” said Cheryl. So Joe returned to the kitchen.

He removed meat wrapped in butcher paper from the refrigerator. Looking like a small roast.

“What is it?” Karissa asked.

“Venison. A neighbor’s a hunter. He traded it for some electrical work I did. I mostly fish or buy from the grocery store.”

“I can understand living off the land,” said Karissa.

“Just haven’t the stomach for killing, let alone the rest of it. Sometimes his wife comes by with a rabbit they’ve trapped, already prepared. I don’t mind gutting fish, but things that walk on land, that have fur or hides and innards like us...” he shrugged. He wielded a long narrow knife which apparently had a sharp blade and cut up the roast, the butcher paper beneath it, a cutting board beneath that, into narrow, two inch long slices and put them in the pie plate with soy sauce and with the green onion, garlic and ginger Karissa had prepared. “Let it marinate for a half hour,” Joe said.

He washed his hands, and Karissa washed hers, and they sat at the table. The two girls had already gotten into bed, only taking their shoes off.

“So,” said Joe. “Runaways.”

All three girls stiffened.

“Don’t worry. I won’t turn you in. I just hope you had good reason.”

“Incest,” said Randy. “Cheryl’s dad. For me, my mom’s probably happy not to have me under foot. She either gripes, argues or ignores me.”

Joe shook his head. “Karissa?”

“I’d rather not say, if you don’t mind. Just that’s it’s safer not being home. Okay?”

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, you’re safe here.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks, Joe,” Randy said.

“If you guys want to change, you can use my bedroom or the bathroom,” Joe said. “I probably have t-shirts long enough you could use as nighties.”

“Maybe Cheryl,” Randy responded. “Probably wouldn’t reach too low on me. Fuck it,” she decided, and movement under the quilt, with her carefully rising up, ended with her flinging her pants onto the floor.

“Maybe a t shirt,” Cheryl blushed.

“Let me see what I have,” Joe said, and Cheryl followed him into his bedroom. He closed the door after leaving her there and sat with Karissa again. A couple minutes later, Cheryl came out wearing a t shirt that hung nearly to her knees. The image of Einstein sticking his tongue out on the front.

“Cute,” Randy laughed while her friend quickly slipped back under covers.

The girls had a quiet conversation while Joe and Karissa chatted separately at the table.

“So you’re some kind of hermit?” Karissa asked him.

“Sometimes.”

“I don’t think it works like that. Either you’re a hermit or you’re not. I think you’d need to be a misanthrope to be a hermit.”

“Misanthrope,” Joe chuckled. Her glare had him apologizing.

“You don’t seem annoyed that we’re here,” Karissa explained.

“I don’t mind the solitude,” Joe started. “It lets me get work done.”

“You mean your engineering, because...”

“Painting too. Sometimes I’ll just work on backgrounds. Or I’ll have some sketches or photographs. I do like to have a model, but they’re few and far between.”

“So you don’t use it to pick up girls?”

He laughed. “They’d have to be very trusting to come out to the middle of nowhere.”

“Or desperate.”

“Karissa.”

“I approached you, Joe, and wasn’t all that subtle about it. So have there been girls? Or women I guess.”

“Yes. I have a couple friends who join me here sometimes. Divorcees like me.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“Yes. And I have a friend, a professor at Boise State, who stayed here for a month at the end of summer. I’ve stayed with her during the worst of winter. She’s a very independent woman. I guess we just like each other.”

“So you don’t lure women here to model?”

“I have, actually, but, like I said, it’s rare. I’ll go to one of the falls and bring my sketch book and my camera. There’ll be tourists. Campers. Sometimes they’re curious or I’ll catch their eye, but rarely is it just one woman on her own. Nevertheless, if it’s a couple women or even a couple, or even an older girl with a family, I’ll ask them, as a group, if they would come up here so I could use the girl or woman as a model. I offer to pay.”

“So it’s not a lure. They’re only here to model.”

“Almost always.”

“Almost?”

“The occasional odd woman out. Like a sister is there with a couple, or it’s one of a couple of women.”

“But never the daughter?”

He chuckled. “Once bitten, twice shy, so no. I’ll tell the flirty ones my story, or just stop the modelling session, at least just the one on one part, and invite a parent to join us.”

“You’re not tempted? A young woman available, who obviously attracted you with her looks and her nubile body?”

“Of course I’m tempted. But the risks definitely outweigh the rewards. And I do prefer a mature woman.”

“Sure you do,” Karissa snorted.

“Once sex is done, what’s left?”

“And you do get to ogle.”

“That too,” he chuckled.

After that, they started to cook. The rice had been started a little earlier, and Karissa had cut up some broccoli and Joe softened them in the marinade in the wok before adding the venison.

In the end, there was plenty for two, but not quite enough for four. But the girls on the futon had fallen asleep.

“Should I wake them?” Joe asked.

“No. They can split what’s left later. And you do have other food.”

“I’ll make a note when we’re done.”

“Okay.”

He showed her how to use chopsticks, actually touching her hand. The most intimate moment at that point.

It became a lot more intimate.

“I have an inflatable cushion,” Joe said.

“Please let me sleep with you. I’m on my period anyway.”

“They’ll think...”

“I don’t care what they think. We’ll just tell them the inflating of the cushion would have woken them if it comes to that.”

“You’re making it difficult.”

“I am,” she smiled. “Making it hard,” she giggled, looking down.

“Let me get you a shirt, and you can change in the bathroom.”

“Whatever.”

In the bathroom she took her time. Partly because she needed to, and partly because of timing. She’d asked about taking a shower. So when she turned the water on for the shower, she snuck out and into the bedroom. As she thought she might, she caught his hand low under the blanket and quickly lifted it to find his cock exposed.

“Karissa,” he muttered.

“I want to watch you masturbate,” she insisted, removing her shirt. She had already taken off her jeans, so she only wore her panties. “Look at me and masturbate, Joe.” She rubbed her breasts and her fingers slid into her panties. “Why is your cock shiny?”

“I use ... lotion.”

“Show me.”

He pulled open a drawer beside the bed, and showed her the pump bottle. She pumped a dollop into her hand, fingertips already a little red.

“Karissa,” he muttered.

“Ssh.”

She knelt on the bed, straddling his legs, and grasped her first cock. And rubbed it like he had.

“Oh God,” he moaned.

“Harder?” she asked, clutching it harder.

“Karissa,” he gulped. “Just let me...”

“You want to touch me?” she asked, caressing her small breasts.

“Just let me do it.”

“Too late,” she insisted. “Is this good, or...”

“Faster,” he admitted.

So she went faster. And decided two hands were better than one, one low on his shaft, and the other continuing to rub high, across the edges of his glans. He was circumcised unlike Harold, and she found it prettier somehow because of it. If that was the right word for the firm, veiny thing.

“Oh fuck,” he growled, lifting his middle upwards. The first spurt arched high before falling onto his abdomen. She abandoned one hand to pump out the rest of his spurts with the other, or that’s what it looked like. The free hand slipped into her panties again, rubbing her clit intensely. Until she joined him in orgasm.

“The shower’s still on,” he reminded her after they recovered.

“Come on then,” she grinned.

The shower proved too small for two, which disappointed her. She let him clean off the mess on his belly before she replaced him there, noticing his penis becoming slowly more cock-like, which made her giggle. He noticed her too. Her supple body completely naked. Her perfection.

“There won’t be much hot water left,” he warned her through the curtain. “I’m heading to bed.”

“Okay.”

She dried using his damp towel, and went out into the main room of the cabin and found her bag, getting out her last clean panties and lined the gusset with a pad. Putting them on, she put on the long t-shirt which Joe had left on her bag that had the periodic table on it. “Such a nerd,” she chuckled to herself.

After turning off the light at his request, she slipped into bed beside him. “You want me to rub you again,” she asked. “I noticed you getting hard again.”

“That’s okay,” he gulped, making her giggle.

“Joe, turn around,” she said quietly. He had turned his body away from her. “Please?”

He moved onto his back. She smiled at him. Even in the dark, he could somehow see it. Like she was illuminated from within. She held her beautiful face in a hand, elbow holding it up as she lay on her side beside him. Not quite touching.

“Who are the girls in the photos?” she asked. She’d noticed the pictures on his chest of drawers.

“My daughters,” he told her. “Emmy and Betsie.”

“Are they with their mother?”

“Yes. I thought she turned them against me.”

“But?”

“Emmy still won’t talk to me. I went to her graduation this past year. High school.”

“What about custody?”

“Joint, but it was just too ... uncomfortable. And I moved here.”

“And Betsie?”

“She ... wanted to know what happened. She even wanted to know who it was that accused me. We had been close before all the crap and the divorce, and ... she asked her mother about it. Why, for instance, I wasn’t in jail because of it. Her mother told her she didn’t believe I was as innocent as I claim. I told her she could call my accuser. And she did.”

“And she realized you were innocent.”

“Yes. She said she wanted to run away. I convinced her not to. But her mother gave into her. Let her come here.”

“This summer?”

“Yes.”

“The girl in that one painting.”

“Yes.”

“She posed for you naked.”

“Yes.”

“That’s good, Joe.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is. She understands it’s a study now. Nothing sexual. And it makes you all that more uncomfortable with me here. Me masturbating you.”

“Yes. She’s about the same age as you I think.”

“How old is she?”

“Sixteen.”

“Close enough,” Karissa giggled. “I won’t apologize, Joe. In a way you’re my model. I’ve been ... curious about the workings of a man. You let me see and feel it.”

“Glad I could help,” he chuckled.

“I won’t say no if you want to fuck me. But you won’t, will you?”

“No. But it isn’t because I don’t want to.”

“I understand,” she smiled, tapped his groin, and kissed his cheek. “But just to let you know, what happened tonight will happen again.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he laughed.

“Listen,” she said.

They heard moans.

“Come on.”

“What?” he asked when she slipped out of bed and tugged at his hand.

“Come on,” she insisted. “Quietly.”

She brought him to the door and opened it a little. “Stand behind me.”

Joe, taller than Karissa by nearly a foot, did as asked. They saw Cheryl on her back, her borrowed t-shirt lifted above her near C sized breasts, the rest of her naked, her legs spread wide with Randy between them, face pressed against her groin. And they heard Cheryl’s moans. More when Randy reached a hand up to play with her nipples. Until Cheryl grabbed a pillow and pressed it against her mouth, muffling her pleasured sounds. Not long after, she undulated, arched and shivered, obviously cumming.

Randy moved over her and kissed her, Cheryl pulling away momentarily before clutching her best friend and kissing her back enthusiastically. Then toppling her onto her side and onto her back, and lifting her shirt out of the way of her breasts and kissing down to them.

“You sure?” Randy murmured.

Cheryl lifted her head and nodded and returned to her task.

Karissa reached back and found Joe’s hardening cock, boxers in the way of feeling it in the flesh. She pushed up the light fabric until she held it directly. Her other hand brought Joe’s hand to her groin. Joe pulled away, but accepted the breast she guided him to. Caressing it and the other breast. Karissa did her own fingering of her pussy, keeping her heavier breathing as quiet as possible.

They watched Cheryl tentatively taste her best friend for the first time directly before, like the earlier kiss, becoming enthusiastic about it. Randy must have been extremely horny, because she didn’t last long. Only then did Karissa pull away from the door, and Joe quietly closed it.

Karissa knelt in front of him and brought his cock to her mouth.

“Karissa,” Joe whispered, a little louder than he wanted because of the startling.

“Ssh,” she responded, standing. “Sit on the edge of the bed. Please.”

When he did, she went to his desk and turned on the lamp there. Returning to him, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips before kneeling between his thighs, which she gently urged him to separate.

“Karissa,” he muttered quietly.

“Please,” she murmured back, watching his expression when she licked his glans. Delighting in the pleasure she saw there. She had watched her sort of mother, one of the great cocksuckers, and had learned. But not everything.

“Watch the teeth,” he grimaced when she took his glans into her mouth.