A few moments passed when I heard the creaking of the floor, and right after that the sound of the deadbolt unlatching."Come in," he said. He was of a...erage height and build. Not Brad Pitt, but not Gilbert Gottfried, either.I smiled, stepping inside quietly as he requested.He closed the door and locked it behind me. I stood there looking about his living room as he did so. When he turned back to me, he raised one hand and slid it up along the inside of my purse strap, the back of his hand. Reading the story once more, she placed her hand between her thighs and gently nudged her labia. Very slowly she pushed the folds of skin back and forth and up and down. Her wetness began dribbling out of her and to the leather chair. She didn't care; she had done this before. The smell of her had permeated that chair enough times in the past that it was now part of its character. Even before she got halfway through the passage in the story, her breath was quickening. She slipped a hand under. More

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