”“We don’t even kiss with tongue touching tongue, delightful as that taste is.”“Because it’s Lent, I don’t hold you against me with one ...and cuddling a breast and the other stroking your marvelous pussy though your clothes.”“Then I don’t rub my derriere across your groin to feel your cock harden.”“And I don’t slip my hand in the waist of your skirt to play with the hair on your mound.”“Then I don’t open my waist band to remove my skirt.”“I don’t take off my trousers and hang them and your skirt. His eyes, normally a vibrant green, were dulled with pain and sunken in dark, smudged pits.His fiery locks had been shorn, all except a narrow crest of hair, a strip 5 or 6 centimeters wide that ran from his widow's peak to the nape of his neck. Dyed a muddy auburn color, where it had stood in a proud crest before, now it lay dirty, matted and tangled against his stubbled scalp. His eclectic and colorful clothes had been replaced with a non-descript blue coverall that was stained and torn. Mud. More

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