It was a tap. It was to Charlotte's cheek. A reminder of her focus. Richard was a professional.  He was also a teacher. This was not his first scene. But it was Charlotte's first.<br/><br/>It wasn't that GoodFellow thought that Richard would be rough. It wasn't that Richard seemed to be going in that direction.  It was just that this had to be feeling and not anything that resembled a strike or smack for two reasons.<br/><br/>First, Charlotte might be drawn back to her raging panic that was deep and underneath a thin layer of pleasure at the moment.  This did not need to be the  squirrel after the acorn in Charlotte's  ICE AGE of fears.<br/><br/>Second, GoodFellow had promised. He had promised no beating pain at all. He promised pleasure and he promised that she would want ever single taste of it and beg for more.  So GoodFellow's integrity was on the line.  His promises had always been as good as the words he spoke.<br/><br/>He stood by them. This time would be no different. No beatings... None. He meant it.<br/><br/>So GoodFellow inched into Charlotte no further. He rocking into her, filling her up with as much pleasure as he could. He gritted his teeth against it. His fingers to her clit brushing her lightly, stirring her nub erect with his attention.<br/><br/>GoodFellow was pushing her to the very edge when he look up to Richard. Catching the man's attention and exchanging a knowing look. A look that asked for patience. A look that told him they were just a cunt hair close to Charlotte's first orgasm. A promise that while she was twisting and writhing under him he would impale himself deep inside her. But not until she was lost in that first big crashing wave.<br/><br/>And then GoodFellow shared a grin. He was close too. Way too close. Damn it, Charlotte!!!<br/><br/>