With her right, she undid my belt buckle. Working the stiff fly buttons was tough going and my insistent erection made the job even tougher. Top butto..., second button, third, last, then she peeled back the front and tugged the heavy fabric off my hips. Janice paused and looked into my eyes, knowing the suspense was killing me."Janice!" I groaned.Her smile widened into a saucy grin as she pulled my jockey shorts down in front (their design was the same half a century ago) and hooked the elastic. Hands and soft whispers.She is flesh. Flesh that becomes sensation beneath his hands.All she is now, is sensation.Beneath his hands, sensation exists to become pleasure.And she transforms beneath his hands. And what of his pleasure? It also comes through his hands. He needs to touch.He hands are the conduit, and in this room, his hands create pleasure for them both. It flows from his hands into her flesh and back into him. There are no words. Excepting what is absolutely necessary. A gentle. More

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