Chapter 2

I didn't know what exactly stunned most. My mind had to recap everything as I returned to writing my novel. This so distracted me that I had to give up on my homework well before supper. What was the loss, I consoled myself. The world might find it useful, but the delay in completing and publishing another alternate history on the Civil War wouldn't kill it.

So, as I washed my hands and got ready to eat with my fiancée, I thought about what had happened earlier today. My sex slave had pulled a fast one, announcing that she now shared my dislike of monogamy and wanted to explore a polyamorous lifestyle. I was even more pleased to learn that this didn't mean that she wished to change the rest of our dynamic. After all, aside from the exclusive part, it satisfied both of us.

I had my qualms about Desiree's sudden fascination with golden showers, but I considered the possibility that she might simply be attempting to find out the cause of all of the fuss. Either that, or she might be truly intrigued with the practice. I figured that it would pass, and as long as she didn't expect me to return the favor, I would be okay with it. I just wouldn't kiss her right afterward.

As always, my woman's Neapolitan heritage showed up in her cooking. Early on in our relationship, I tried to be somewhat egalitarian in the kitchen sense, helping out and so forth. Desiree soon disabused me of such rubbish, as she thought of it. In her mind, it was her second most sacred duty to fill my belly, superseded only by a woman's proper service to a man in the bedroom. I suppose that not all Old World traditions die out, even in a modern American female. As liberated as she was in some ways, Des wouldn't let me usurp her rightful place as the household cook.

Naturally, her tastes ran strongly in the direction of pasta, olive oil, vegetables, cheese, and Italian sausage. Since such food was comforting and filled one's belly, I wasn't the sort to complain about her love of such Mediterranean cuisine. It was, in hindsight, something that I could have predicted by seeing her voluptuous form. She wasn't obese by any standards but a supermodel's, but Des was definitely a full-figured woman.

"So, honey, you've had enough time since I gave you that BJ. Are you ready for more fucking?" Desiree flirted unabashedly, another wonderful habit of hers.

"When am I not?" I winked back at my lovely redhead. She blushed for a moment, and with supper consumed, hurried the dishes into the dishwasher. When she took longer than expected to return, I slipped into the kitchen to check on her.

Desiree was already nude, her casual clothing scattered on the floor. Instead of picking up her T-shirt and panties, my fiancée blushed again and knelt in front of me. She turned around and put herself on all fours, raising her sensual bottom to offer me its use.

"Sir, would you like to fuck me in this position?" she suggested, which made her even more seductive than usual.

"Yes, I want to fuck you. Are you offering me your pussy or your ass?" I demanded, curious as to her agenda, as I knew that she had one.