My hands, roaming over her body, came to rest on her small, petite breasts. They were the size of tennis balls, round and firm to my touch. As I squee...ed her breasts I could feel her breath grow heavy, her fingers squeezing my nipples in return and suddenly go down to the front of my pants and feel the outline of my hard rod. I lifted her sari and stroked her silky smooth thighs, all the while our lips locked, tonguing each other hungrily. My hands were inside her petticoat, exploring her. Last of all, this being was tall, a full two hands taller than Orzad, who was accounted fairly tall among his people. The being's clothes, too, were strange. Not in their styling, for men of different cities often wore clothes of varying cut, but in their color.They weren't the dark crimson of the Trader's Guild, nor yet the bright yellow of the money lenders. They weren't priestly green, or even the dull brown of the common citizen, the farmer and herder, that Orzad wore. Instead, they were of. More

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