Maybe my touch would bring the change itself. A child far below could gaze as the shape shift takes place. All wide eyed wonder would be played out on...their face. I would drink the sweet nectar the pretty meadow flowers offer. Just to decide which brilliant one to choose from would be a chore in itself. A bright sun yellow daffodil would open its petals and welcome me to taste. But then there is the radiant blue violet crying for my attention, the dark petals dancing in the breeze hypnotizing. Peter kept doing this rubbing deeply. He was very near her butthole. His hand was touching the g-string thread between ass. This time she couldn’t help it. She raised her hips, and then pressed down in response to his touch.This developed into a rhythm, as he pressed and got deep she raised her hips slightly. As he released the pressure of his touch she pressed her hips harder into the table. His hands moved over her hips and under her. So when she raised her hips she was inviting him to touch. More

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