In this bedroom scene, you edge me over and over, starting with French kisses, then a handjob (“dear husband, enjoy the best handjob ever”), then a bl*w job (“dear husband, enjoy the best bl*w job ever”), then a nylon footjob (“dear husband, enjoy the best footjob ever”), but no intercourse until you persuade me to sign a five million pound insurance policy, double indemnity for accidental . Having signed, “Now, Michael for the best s*x in your life”.

Here you f*ck me in various positions, but saying to me, “Don’t c*m, not yet . . . not yet. Hold edge. Hold edge.”

“Are you ready to explode? C*m in this glass.”

Scene 3: The Accident

The next morning, we are both in bed still.

“Did you have fun last night Michael. The best s*x of your life. Let’s celebrate. Have a glass of

Here you me hand a glass of into which you have slipped a .

“Oh Michael, you are paralyzed. It would be a most unfortunate accident if you were to ch*ke on your own c*m.”

[Here pour the glass full of c*m into a funnel, heading for my mouth]

“Such a dangerous hobby, Michael, eating your own c*m.”

“Oh dear, your paralyzed muscles cannot handle the c*m. You are ch*king, ch*king. With an empty glass in your hand, and traces of your c*m in the glass.”

“Too bad the is not detectible. Too bad I was in the next room and did not hear you.”

“Goodbye Michael. The most rewarding marriage I ever had.”

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