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He started stimulating my very sensitive asshole with one of his thumbs. The extra stimulation made me take controls of the reins for a moment while I increased the speed of my pace up and down. Ben did not want to relinquish control. He gently pushed his thumb past my sphincter. This was not new territory to me. One of my past boyfriends had driven me crazy one night when he discovered by ‘accident’ how responsive I had been to his touch. His hand had slipped lower than usual during our lovemaking. To my regret, he had been too shy to try that again. I loved the added sensation and I froze while accommodating the additional penetration. I felt a lump form in my throat as my breathing was starting to be labored. The fever was again rising in me and the need to come was becoming more pressing. Ben seized the opportunity to retake control of my body using the invading digit to slow down my stride. ‘Shhh!’ he whispered as he slowed me down further. ‘Breathe.’ He waited for me to take. Dartmoor is such a beautiful part of England that it’s not surprising that many of my teenage-years friends returned there after college, and some of them never left. (If you don’t know this part of the world, it’s well worth a visit!). I had resisted, quite stubbornly, partly because I could think of very few with whom I shared any deep friendship, in fact, I could count them on one hand, and to my regret, I had not been in contact with any of them for at least ten years. The other reason for my reluctance was that I felt that my weekends down west were for my parents. I don’t think I’ve said before, but I’m an only child and seeing Eve lose her mother made me perhaps a bit precious about the time I could find with mine. But I’d not considered moving home as the solution, that was possibly a residual reaction and resentment to my wife abandoning me in London. One evening though – it was just after Easter, in early April, Mum just said it straight out: ‘Look, we’d like to see more.
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