I lift his shirt over his head, taking the cap with it. I want nothing to obscure his beautiful face. I take off my shirt and pull him close. Warm ski... meets. Lips meet. I run my hand down his back, and rub his soft, firm bottom. He squeezes mine. I move my hand to his belt, unbuckle belt and pants and try to pull them down. I sit up and he lays on his back. I pull his pants down and off as he lifts his bottom to let me. I see the outline of his dick pressing against his boxer-briefs,. I grinned, it gave them permission. ‘Sorry, but I have to keep telling people this.’ They gathered themselves. ‘OK,’ said the Brunette, ‘I’m Tracey Connor, this is Laura Russell,’ pointing to the raven haired woman, ‘and that is Bonnie Truscott.’ We all shook hands over the table. I noticed wedding rings on all three women. I set my recorder running in my pocket. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ I said. ‘How do you know me? Were we at Manchester?’ They laughed. ‘Ann was the clever one. We left after ‘A’. More

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