It was close to The Hotel, however."The Hotel" was where we met at first—that's how we called it, just "The Hotel." It was an old place, decayed eno...gh to rent rooms for a couple hours, no questions asked or even glances at us, unlike the one we spent our first afternoon together. I had seen it before, often passing in front of it. Any big city has places like that.I met Athena at the bar of Antonio's, that second time, and we had a drink. The conversation was strange, difficult, that day.. I nodded to her."Go on Kirsty, if you want to that is."She looked down again and tentatively reached out with first one hand and then both of them. She hooked her fingers in the waist back at each of my hips. I could feel that her hands were shaking but her interest and desire overrode her caution.She was still looking down between our bodies and watched intently as her hands pulled my trunks downwards. She quickly realised that my cock was caught in them and so started to pull the trunks out. And she reads romances by people like Joanna Trollope and Mary Wesley and Katie Fforde, not that Harlequin crap.She also likes medieval French poetry. She even taught me to like it. Me! Reading poems in French that I can barely understand. What happened was, she smiled at me one day when she bought this old beat-up book she found in the foreign language section. I asked her if she could read it--dumb question, but something made me want her to stay a minute. She told me, sure, she could, and. She can feel her juices leaking out down the man’s legs and onto his balls. She doesn’t even stand a chance to catch her breath when he picks up his pace—lifting her up and slamming her body back down onto him over and over, deeper and deeper. The woman feels another orgasm on the hells of her first, and just when the first subsides, the next comes crashing through her. Rita’s nipples are almost too sensitive to be played with now and it is a mixture of pain and pleasure when Mark continues to.
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