She didn’t wear deodorant, and I could taste the slight sourness of her body as I buried my face in her thick clump of armpit hair. My tongue dragge... through the resistance of the hairs, tasting the saltiness of her skin. She moaned and squirmed in delight. I kissed my way along her slender arm: her upper arm was covered in the finest, silkiest downy hair. The hairs on her forearms were longer and darker, but no less soft. I could have spent hours just kissing her beautiful hairy arms and. They had talked for weeks, months even if she counted their first meetings in the chat-room, she counted them, she counted everything. Slowly they grew together, little by little every chat, every message drew them closer. He took his time, held her back from rushing, forced her to let their relationship develop, forced her to put friendship before need, trust before lust. He was everything she wanted, everything but fast. Day by day she felt the trust forming, like a warm coat on a cold day,. More

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