Then I did something that I've wondered about every day since. I picked up my hand and put it on his thigh. I leaned back and felt a wave of relaxatio... sweep though the back of my neck. I closed my eyes and listened to the sitar and smelled the stale pine air-freshener and sunk deeper into the seat. My hand moved slowly up the thigh as I had no recollection to whom it belonged. I wanted to find out if the penis was firm or flaccid, could my tired old 36-year-old person still make a young guy. Still, I heard the familiar rap of his knuckles against the door and then the turning of the door knob. I was down on the floor on my knees, skirt hiked up while I played with my pussy, panties pushed to the side, toy stuffed in my tight, little hole. Looking up at him, I kept rubbing my clit gasping and releasing my lip from my teeth as I spoke,”Yeah?” I titled my head to the side and whimpered. He looked dumbstruck, a small red glow covering his cheeks. “I-I made lunch, princess…” He. More

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