Ali was standing with her feet about a foot apart and he slid his hand down between her legs to her pussy. “Nice definition – Oh - you are wet Mrs...”“Yes I’m sorry – you see I’ve never had a fitting quite like this.”[b]“Oh don’t worry – in Jamaica we are more intimate and treat our bodies as a gift from God to be caressed and loved.”[/b] Ali thought he looked like one of those Gods with golden light skin. Long dreadlocks framed a square jaw and well defined chest. Through his open robe she could. “I, uh, apologize for my sweaty sock,” she giggled softly. “It must smell something awful..”“Oh, no, Mrs. L., it smells great!” he said all too eagerly, regretting it immediately. “I’m sorry…”She looked at him with a dark smile.“Don’t be, son,” she hissed seductively, amazed at her words and tone, too far gone to stop now. “Smell it.”“What?” he asked wide eyed, his hands freezing on her calf and foot.She lifted the right foot, wiggling it in his face.“I said smell it,” she said dominantly,. More

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