I continue to release the buttons on your shirt, but, you move your hands down to my thighs lifting me up. My hands automatically move up around your ...eck. I lift my legs to grip your waist, thankful now for the split in my skirt that doesn’t impede the movement, You move us into the corridor, which thankfully, is empty. Your hands squeeze my arse pulling me even closer to you. I am reminded of my lack of panties, as my pussy brushes against the button of your trousers causing delicious. I’d also inherited my grandparents’ house at the edge of a small farming community in eastern Oklahoma. I was tired of the city so I thought I’d try the bucolic life. I’d visited there as a youngster and my father had spoken fondly of a girl he knew at a nearby farm, confiding to me that she had taught him “about women”. Her name was Freyda and she’d come to the states as a youngster with her Austrian parents who had become successful farmers, building quite a large holding of land for hay and. More

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