She: Part 2 by Annabel Fanning Page A

burst out laughing. “It wasn’t a sex tape, Logan. We recorded ourselves dancing to our jam.”
    “ Oh ,” he breathes in understanding. “What’s your jam?”
    “The Best by Tina Turner,” I tell him. “We got really drunk many years ago and choreographed an entire routine. We figured it was the best thing ever, and you know, maybe Britney Spears or your friends N*Sync would want to use it.”
    “Naturally,” he teases.
    “So we filmed it and then accidentally emailed it to about two hundred friends, family and work associates.”
    “Do you, uh, still have the video?”
    I shake my head, smiling at him.
    “Too bad,” he sighs, taking my foot off of his chest and massaging it. “I suppose I’ll just have to watch you touch yourself instead.”
    * * *
    We soak in the hot water for a long, luxurious time, and all of that time is a slow, sensual windup to what we want to do afterwards.
    Once we’ve dried off, I linger next to the bed, and when Logan joins me he has a coin in his hand.
    “Is it competition worthy?” I ask.
    “Yes, Ma’am,” he confirms. “Pick a side.”
    “Heads,” I grin cheekily.
    He throws the coin up in the air, catches it easily, and slaps it onto the back of his hand. It’s heads, meaning that he has to go first.
    “ Dammit ,” he says. He doesn’t miss a beat before asking, “Best of three?”
    “Sure.”
    Logan repeats his process and the result is the same.
    “Best of five?” I offer with a laugh. Or seven?
    “No,” he says in mock dramatics. He then smiles wryly at me, “I know when I’m beat.”
    My heart is pounding as I sit on the bed next to where Logan lies down, his erection protruding, waiting to be taken. He closes his eyes and furrows his brow, concentrating hard as he takes his penis in his hand and pistons himself once.
    “Which of our sexploits has been your favourite?” he asks me, seeking an image of inspiration.
    “Impossible to choose,” I tell him, gazing down at him.
    His eyes dart open. “I need something to think about, baby. My mind is blank. I’ve never done this with another person before,” he admits.
    I lean down and kiss his lips. “Neither have I,” I breathe. Then I take his free hand and use it to touch my sex. “Think about this,” I smile, wholly aroused.
    He groans, his other hand moving already. He starts to pump himself furiously, coaxing him to his release. His guttural moans make me even damper, and I have to force myself to hold back. I ’ ll have plenty of opportunities to touch him like this , I tell myself, but this moment is supposed to be different. This is supposed to be a personal, private, individual experience that we’re sharing with each other for the first time. This is another boundary that we’re letting one another cross, and watching him not only turns me on to the max, but it also makes me feel closer to him than ever before.
    He keeps stroking himself forcefully. Several heightened minutes later, his wandering hand searches for me and when it glides over my sex again, I whimper sensitively, the sound of which pushes Logan to the edge. He works himself for a few moments more and then groans loudly as he comes. He shakes it out, his sounds of pleasure penetrating every part of my psyche. Holy shit , this is hot!
    Breathing rapidly, Logan’s eyes open once more and he smiles as he sees me biting my lip, my eyes wide with arousal.
    “Your turn, baby,” he pants eagerly.
    My nerves are nonexistent as Logan and I swap position. I lie back and he sits up, a look of intense enthusiasm on his face.
    “You look like it’s Christmas morning,” I laugh, stroking his face with my hand.
    “I feel like it too,” he grins back at me.
    Taking his lead, I close my eyes to begin with, moving my hands steadily south. I touch myself and writhe immediately, already so wet and so sensitive. I set my keen pace, moaning airily. The images I see in my mind’s eye are certainly gratifying, but Logan in my