By now I was hard in my pants. She was a bit short and between her upper thighs, her skin was like hands were on butter. Bra straps came like ‘haddi...�� in butter. Like any other man, I was bad at taking them off.She stopped kissing got up sitting on my tummy took her bra and threw it away. She was rushing to kiss me. I had to stop her to admire the beauty in low light. Disturbed hairs, those tiny tender breasts shining in dim light and shadowed flat navel. She didn’t stay still.She moved her. Slowly unbuckling it, she felt him relax a little as he fingers slide over the crotch area. She could see the bulge in his jeans and moved her fingers along its length.“Mmm that’s quite the package,” she whispered as she slid her hand inside the waistband of his jeans. She felt him suck in his stomach as her fingers slowly explored the confines of his boxers. With her other hand, she unbuttoned his fly and slid down the zip. “I didn’t realise tying you up would get you quite so excited.”She. She pursed her lips and looked up. "I was just wondering how it would feel to have my fingers covered in your blood while I straddle you and stab you repeatedly." She smiled. Her voice was low and breathy. "Were you now?" I chuckled softly. I gripped the towel and yanked it off. It landed somewhere on the chaise in the corner. I hadn't had the chance to see her completely naked and here she was, standing in front of me with nothing but her hair to cover her. She was exquisite. Much better than. I hate my uniform, the badge of St Georges of Edinburgh, but today as I sit on this wooden bench my bum freezing, I enjoy the long dark blue woolen stockings I wear, cursing they only come above mid-thigh, my thin cotton knickers, though designed for men's pleasure to see them so adorned, do fuck-all for my warmth.I swear if I dont board the train soon, my warm lubricity will turn to icicles and pierce a mans balls should he try to force entry into me.I am cold and seek warmth, the station is.
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