Donna's Appetite

I have mentioned Donna’s mismatched eyes before. It is strange what goes through one’s mind at certain times. It would be inappropriate to explain in detail (although I am sure some of you will guess) why it was that, at this precise moment, all I could see of Donna was her eyes as I looked down upon her. To say I was in a state of some arousal will suffice. Despite an approaching orgasm I found myself dwelling on those sparkling odd-coloured eyes as they smiled up at me.

This was to be one of Donna’s evenings of monumental sexual activity. She sometimes could be extremely cuddly, wanting no more than to be held and to hold, to nuzzle and caress. At others her appetite was for unbridled lust, unfettered access, unlimited exploration. She was never aggressive, never rough but, oh my God, could she be active.

‘When,’ she said, resting her chin on my trimmed hair, ‘puss comes to shove, College, you’re not exactly lifeless in the sack yourself.’ I had said, post orgasm, that her actions were exhaustingly delicious and reminded her that I had to work in the morning. Often did she lie like this, resting her chin there as her hands gently revived any flagging responsiveness in me. ‘I mean to say, I have noticed that your body, at the moment of what I understand Jenny Frog refers to as “La Crise,” tends to arch like Robin Hood’s bow and a sort of strange trembling passes through you. Your language, normally so refined, tends to assume more the nature of that spoken by my sister.’

‘Cassaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaandra,’ I said.

‘The same. She lack’s refinement. I have often wondered how it can be that two siblings such as ourselves can be so different. To say she is sexually active would be something like saying that Colonel Gadaffi isn’t a nice chap.’ I giggled and shifted so that her hand could do more easily what she was trying to do with it.

‘Could it be that she was subject to influences outside the home to which you were not?’

‘I think it would be more accurate to say, College, that it was influences in the home to which I was not subject.’ Her language continued to crack me up. ‘To wit, the influence of several of my mother’s dear and close friends who found, Mum being down the pub and unlikely to return until she was outside of fourteen pints of Aunty Mary’s Old Jilling and hence incapable of providing her normal caring services, that Cassandra was more than willing to act in loco parentis.’ This time I could not but roar with laughter.’ I tended to remain as far from home as was possible. So, once again, my little bucket of brain, you have hit the nail, albeit on the wrong head.’ She moved her chin in a southerly direction and I heard a slightly muffled, ‘Now, let’s try that again and see if it works better this way.’ It did.