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His orgasm splashed my tits, clung sticky to my nipples and pooled in my cleavage. I ran a finger through the liquid, then raised it to my mouth, sucking greedily at the sweet white goo while gazing fixedly into his eyes.

He exhaled noisily. "I love watching you eat my cum," he murmured. "I just wish you could reach your nipples with your tongue, so I could see you lick it as well."

"Sorry," I shrugged. "This is all I've got. I'll tell you what I can do, though."

"Okay...."

"I can suck it out of my pussy." And, as soon as I said that, I wished I hadn't. After all, it was a long time since those Yoga classes; a lot of years, a lot of weight-gain (well, a little weight-gain) and a lot of inactivity. But there was a time, back when I was younger, when I could fashion my body into all manner of contortions. And I'd thought back then, as I stared into my own crotch, that if I really wanted to know what a tongue felt like....

I never tried it, and I never kept the classes up. But if I dug out my old manuals and practiced....

Mark was dressing, slowly and reluctantly. He had a bus to catch, and I needed to shower and get back to work. But I'd be seeing him again at the weekend and, as I kissed him goodbye, his expression told me how much he was looking forward to it. I just hoped I didn't let him down.

Okay, first things first. When I said I could suck cum out of my pussy, I wasn't being strictly truthful. In fact, I don't know if it is actually physically possible for any woman to place her face that close to her own vulva, to suck it, lick it, or anything else. I know there's always somebody, a friend of a friend of a friend, who says he's seen it done... I once stumbled upon an Internet discussion group that was devoted to that very subject. So no, I'm not claiming to be some kind of bendy super-freak who can pull off the possibly-impossible. But I could once get close enough that, say there was something I wanted that was just inside - well, it might slip out for me to catch in my mouth. And, quite honestly, if I could pull that trick off, I don't think Mark (or any other guy) would start complaining that he'd been cheated. Do you?

I started my exercises that evening - nothing strenuous, just a few old loosening up things that I remembered from before, sitting cross-legged with my hands on my ankles; inhale, flexing my spine ... no, don't move your head, keep your shoulders straight - I could hear my old teacher barking his orders at the class. Hold your breath, count to ten; exhale and relax. Okay, do it again, but this time, can you feel the energy moving down your spine as you inhale? And coming back up as you breathe out? Good....

Five minutes of that, and I was ready to move on... the neck rolls, the shoulder shrugs; I knew I was making some of this up as I went along (I never did find those instruction books), but it felt right... it felt good.

The week passed slowly and a little painfully. A crash-course in contortions that I hadn't attempted in a decade can have that effect. Neither was I ever able to figure out how to stage a dress rehearsal. I did think about it, and poked around in the larder to see if there was anything I could use, just to make sure this would work. But, quite honestly, the idea didn't appeal. I've never been into sex games with food, even when a partner suggested it. I wasn't about to start playing them on my own. No, I was going to have to trust to luck on this one.

Mark was on time, of course, and it was a little awkward, at first. We both knew what was on the menu for tonight, and we both wanted to get to it quickly. At the same time, though, neither of us wanted to seem too anxious...and I was growing increasingly jittery. What if it didn't work? In the real world, I'd shrug and say "so what? I'll try again another time." But sex and the real world rarely co-exist that

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