A line from a song drifted into my head: "You always loved this time of year".Well, not quite.Actually, a lot of the time, she hated it. It meant the ...nd of sunny days and warm endless evenings with the heady perfume of late summer flowers.But she did love the leaves.It was the colours, I think. All those bright reds and oranges, twisting and twirling as the breeze wafted through the trees. They were warm colours, nature's last hurrah before the cold really took hold.And, of course, they were. Thank God for that I thought, my cock was straining at my under daks and giving me considerable pain, a quick adjustment before Jess returned, I grabbed my glass and took a healthy slug, thankyou Mr Seppelt, you make a great drop.Jess returned and took a sip of her wine and the held out her arms for me to dance again, by this time the romantics slow stuff had came back on. 'Once more into the breach ... etc" we moulded together and this time I could feel that Jess was sans brassiere, my cock. More

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