The edges of the washcloth tickled my cock as she began to slowly stroke me up and down.“So much hair is ugly, Rahul, Don’t you shave? She Asked, ...e need to do something about that. I lay trembling under her touch, answering her with only low moans as her hand continued to glide up and down my ridge shaft. The roughness of the washcloth, the strength of her hand gripping around me was causing heat to flood through my body that was hotter than my fever was. The sensations as the washcloth. He looked down at her, eyebrows raised expectantly. ‘Please turn around and place your hands on the vehicle.’ She did as he asked. She felt him step closer to her, his legs braced just outside of hers, his breath on her neck and shoulder. She could smell his musky, natural scent – fresh-cut grass, and leather, and rain. Her heart began to beat faster as she felt his strong hands begin to gently explore her body, starting at her shoulders, moving slowly downward, savoring the curves of her. He gestured out towards the empty road in front of the house. "As you can see, I don't have my vehicle. I let my roommate borrow it this evening. Ted was going to drive me home."Sharon hesitated for only a second before smiling again and opening the door wider for her young husband's friend. "Of course, come in. This is no imposition. Please excuse my attire; I wasn't expecting company." It's not a problem."John stepped past Sharon into her home. She closed the door and escorted the man into. As I got closer I could make out details.She was slim, with a hint of interesting upper development; dark hair, loose, wearing what appeared to be the ubiquitous Little Black Dress. The dress ended somewhere along the upper thigh, pulled up by the way she was sitting on the rail. That was interesting too.I could now see that the figure in the recliner was a man. Casually dressed, no coat, and sleeping; I could hear a soft snore.“Hang on a minute,” I said. “Be right back.”There’s a kind of.
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