Apparently, being quiet has now just gone completely out the window. Unlike Danny, though, I'm not about to tell him to keep it down. Watching and hearing his reactions just drives me on, movements slow and measured at first, palms flat against his chest for purchase.

"Come on," I urge, knowing he can't possibly hold out for much longer and dialing up the rhythm and intensity. The sound of skin against skin is just as intoxicating as the ones coming from him. Every downward motion sends a new wave of pleasure throughout my body.

I gave up keeping a personal diary a lifetime ago, which seems like such a shame right now. 'Dear Diary, today I rode Danny Castellano to orgasm' would have made one hell of an entry starter.