I used my finger to smear her juices on the strawberry. I crawled up her and, with my face right over hers, said, ‘Open,’ as I tapped her lips. Sh... slowly parted them and presented her tongue, resting it on her bottom lip. I placed the strawberry on her tongue. When she drew it into her mouth, her eyes shot open in surprise, and then narrowed to a smokey stare. She chewed languidly, never taking her eyes from mine. As soon as she swallowed, I kissed her hungrily. I backed away from the kiss and. “You’re going to make me wreck Portia’s car, little one.” I managed to say. “Mr. Marlowe is always careful.” She said huskily. She had taken my middle finger and was gently caressing the flower petal-like lips of her womanhood, stopping occasionally to softly press the firm little nub of her clitoris. She was incredibly wet; I told her so, in something resembling a whisper, quite beyond coherent speech. “This girl is always this way for Mr. Marlowe.” She purred. “It is her purpose.” I did not. More

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