The coins are for her, but he decides their purchasing power. He pushes them round on the table as he does, sorting them by size.
‘2p for vanilla, 5p for a hand job, 10p for anal, and £1 for a blow job.’
‘What?! How is fucking my arse worth a tenth of fucking my mouth?’
He smiles, and tosses a pound coin in the air, snapping his fist closed around it as it falls.
‘Twenty-four days. Ten pound coins. You sure about that?’
She hates it when he outwits her.
‘Let’s stick with the original plan.’
She thinks it’ll be easy. There are twenty coins and although they usually fuck at least once a day, with Christmas parties, family visiting and work deadlines, she’s sure the coins will last the length of advent.
But he’s strict.
When they fuck that night, she drops to her knees from sheer habit, wrapping her…
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