You’re more than wet enough for me to slip in, but still clenching now and then, coming off of the high I brought you to. Patience. Slowly. Gently. ...nd then I am in. And you give me that deep, throaty moan of absolute delight, followed by a groan of despair at the fact that you cannot wrap your legs around me this time. Now the smile is triumph. I start slow. I don’t want to hurt you, or myself, and you’re still clenching often and hard enough to make that a possibility. Patience. It’s still. It wasn't. I don't thinkthere was anything less than 40 years old in the salon, including thecustomers and the equipment. The salon had eight chairs- four on eachside. There were also four helmet hair drier seats.Several of the stylists and a couple of the customers said hi to mymother when we walked in. The receptionist, a lady of about 50 pluswinked at me and smiled knowingly. She turned toward the back of thesalon and called out to Brenda. "Your ten o'clock appointment is here."A. More

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