My hand moved to it, andstroking, encouraged it further. With every littlestroke, every little probe, she muttered and groaned,adding fuel to my desir.... For several minutes Icontinued to touch her, learning the mysteries of hersecret garden, and she slowly rocked and moved under myfingers. She was moist now. The hand I wasn’t using toexplore her sex was on a roving commission around herbody. This hand was stroking an erect-nippled breastwhen she shook all over and gasped.‘Did. .” you whispered. “I need more wine.” I watched you stand up, my eyes transfixed, envying the grace of each movement, the raw sensuality you radiated. You were in your red dress, the one we’d talked about. As you walked toward the kitchen, I closed my eyes and remembered the last few hours.You’d arrived in that dress and spent nearly two hours transforming me. A full body shave, then a massage and a light oil rubdown. Three attempts at make-up before we found something we both liked. Giggling. More

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