I loved it when you rested your head in my lap when we watched those amusing and baffling British sitcoms. It filled me with tenderness. Please pardon the cacophony of noises my belly produced. The little strangulated squeals, the spirited whinnies like distant ponies on the sunny sands of Chincoteague, the grim kamikaze death spirals, the rebellious bleats and eerie groans, the mysterious "inner squirts" that suggested a manic homunculus brandishing a turkey baster. That last one threw even me for a loop to be honest. Never heard that one before! I'm inclined to blame that sketchy seafood salad from dinner, or an undiagnosed defect in my gastric architecture. Also I'm sorry my sudden erection made your head bob up like that, I honestly don't know where that came from. Some unexplainable hydraulic anomaly. Or it might've been that Irish Spring commercial where the boy seduces his father. I promise I wasn't thinking anything sexual about your head, or any part of your head for that matter. Not that it's not an attractive head, far from it. As heads go it's right up there. I'd put your head against anybody's. I'd do your head in a second, no question. But it's important to me that you understand that I am capable of restraining myself sometimes, and this was one of those times. The last thing on my mind was any sort of hanky panky with your head. But when you suddenly laughed the abrupt shift in pressure must've caused a reaction, that's all. Of course that doesn't explain why I'm getting hard again now from thinking about it.