It framed the smooth olive skin of his muscular chest. With every sensuous movement of Gaspard's muscles, the fine material rippled over his flesh lik... the sea running up a beach. Or the rings that spread across a cold, deep lake into which a stone has been cast. I imagined how the lovely fabric must have excited Gaspard's nipples as it seemed to hiss across them, making them hard and erect and excitingly visible through the silk. 'Take me,'Gaspard's voice was soft and whorish.It was clear that. Often he would be gone for hours.On one trip when he was gone walking, and I was all by myself, I was lying out in the sun tanning when a man suddenly appeared out of the trees.He came right up to me with a camera in his hand. “I love your little pink swimsuit,” he commented looking me up and down hungrily. “Could I take your photo?” he asked.“No thank you!” I responded haughtily, and he walked away with a disappointed look to him.I did not see which way he went, so I closed my eyes and took a. More

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