I love dancing... almost as much as fucking. I look upon dancing as a prelude to lovemaking, a kind of foreplay. Bob will only do the slow dance, whic... is fine with me, but every once in a while I want to move, ya know?Evidently my position on the barstool was revealing a little leg. Several guys close by were getting a good look up my skirt. Feeling sluttish, I spread my thighs wider and was rewarded with a couple wolf-whistles from a nearby booth with two couples sitting in it. They were all. Are you proud of them, or not?"She frowned. "Not really. They're okay. They're just breasts." Are they sensitive? Do your nipples get hard when brushed by cold air?"She giggled. "Sure, that's normal." Do they get hard when you touch them, fondle them? You do play with them occasionally, don't you?" Yes."I shook my head. "I can't help you if you lie to me." No, I don't play with my boobs. I did when I was younger, but..." Touch them now, fondle them, pinch your nipples gently, pull them out away. More

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