. that would be marvelous. And please call me Monique."I went to prepare her a cup of coffee. I thought that I saw her tongue linger on her upper lip ...or a little longer than was normally acceptable.As I returned with the coffee, Monique was going through her briefcase, shuffling some papers. "Boy, that was quick, Dylan. Are you always this quick when you fulfill a task?" she asked me with a teasing tone in her voice.I had a nagging feeling that the question was a trap of some kind. There was. So when it finally opened, it accidently spilled all over your lap. So in a natural reaction I was on my knees trying to dry you off. The whole time I was touching your dick, trying to dry off your boxers, all I could think about was seeing it. touching it, skin to skin. Tasting it. So i tested my boundries a little. I would accidently slip my hand through the hole in the front of you boxers then back off a bit but you put my hand back. I started rubbing softly with just my fingertips but then. What happened next felt like a blur to her, and she never could exactly remember choosing to do it. The man’s hand - a large rough paw - lifted and groped her huge breast, weighing it almost like one would a slab of meat. Her hand swung out and slapped the tall black man in the face, and before she could shout he swung his own hand, smacking her right back in the face, causing her to tumble to the floor and starting to cry. The stranger’s eyes swung from her convulsing and bawling form back to. Thank goodness the area is deserted.I lower my hands to her waist and stretch my palms up under her sweater. The luxurious cashmere on the back of my hands is rough compared to the skin beneath them. I feel her warmth, her softness, and I raise my hands higher. I feel the small mounds of her breasts delicately held in silk cups."Pinch my nipples. Bite them."The contrast of senses inflames me -- the softness of sight and touch, the coarseness of sound. My partner, my lover. My consort, my.
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