It got worse and worse. "Will you stay still. . ." Oliver grumbled. "I can't," I whispered. "Why not?" he asked, now rolling over to face me. "I––... can't tell you." I blushed. "It's embarrassing." Oliver chuckled. "More embarrassing then being an eighteen-year-old petrified of thunder?" "Yes. Even more embarrassing than that." I sighed. "Just tell me Brooke. I won't laugh or anything, I promise." he looked directly into my eyes, searching for anything that would give it away. "A––Are you. And it squeezed me and began to gently and maddeningly stroke me..softly, slowly..feather light; but oh so exquisite. I groaned once again..the soft gentle touch continued...up and down caressing the head..fingering the shaft...I felt wetness seep out. The small hand squeezed my cock and held it...I knew she sat on my legs; but felt almost no pressure there. Whoever or whatever must have been quite light or small. For a moment, nothing..just a hand on me. Suddenly I felt a wetness engulf the. More

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