After a long hiatus, I saw Lilly today. Took the Can-I-Shoot-Twice-In-One-Session Challenge. I figured if anyone was equal to the task it would be the all-knowing Lilly.
As usual, she greeted me like I was a long-lost friend. She's gotta be the friendliest, most bubbly pole-polisher I know. Genuine, funny, really engaging. Plus, she knows her way around the ol' rod-n-tackle like few others.
I tell her of The Challenge and she smiles and says "We can try." God love her and her we-can-do-it attitude! Imagine asking for a second at-bat with the majority of these clock-watchers? Ha. They'd sneer you right out onto the street.
Anyway, Lilly says to get on my back, we have work to do. And off we go. As you can read elsewhere in this thread, here technique is without peer. One hand, two hand, reverse grip, nut-tickle here, arse-tickle there, change of pace, that crazy way she leans over and blows on your knob -- pop goes the one-eyed weasel and smiles all around. "That was a good one," she giggles while we mop up.
Then she gets me to flip and proceeds to give me a really nice massage. Not Alea-great, but solid nonetheless. So good that I doze off. Beautiful. I might start asking for MPs to choke my chicken first thing so I can enjoy the sleepy after-tingle during the massage portion. Of course, once again, I'm betting the majority of MPs would frown upon a suggested change in the Royal Order of Things.
Anyway, it was complete and utter relaxation.
My reverie is disturbed -- but only in the nicest possible way -- by a talented hand rolling the fuzzy dice dangling between my legs. Ah, if only we met every sunrise in a similar way -- no more grouchy bastards in the morning. Sure enough, Lilly is working her magic.
Some gentle prodding of the ol' Out Hole, but no drilling for oil. I've had that treatment from Lilly before and while interesting in all it's newness, a little bruising.
Flip I go for Round Two. Skillful and sage, Lilly takes her time instead of grabbing the bull by the horn. A tickle here, a tickle there and gradually Frankenpecker stirs. "It's alive!" I almost scream.
Cue Lilly and her magic hands. Nice. I feel like I'm 18 all over again.
Alas, although Lazarus rose from the dead, there was no Second Coming, so to speak. My balls were running on empty. No juice left. No baby batter. No man fat. There was no glaze left in the donut shop.
Eventually, we both started to laugh and that was that. We had gone more than an hour and it was clear that I needed to down a couple of dozen oysters to get my reserves up again.
She gives me a big hug and wishes me a Merry Christmas and I'm feeling good when I hit the street again.