You unbutton your jeans: soft little brown tummy, whitecotton G-string. I want to slide up your T-shirt, seethe mismatched bra, tweak your crinkly nip...les – what aone-track mind! I can only plead that it was our firstholiday together, and you’re the sexiest person I know.So, you fold your knickers down, squat and balance – somuch easier to be a guy sometimes. A little puddlemoistens the dust and runs away. You make eye contact,not bashful at all, just sit there. Even the busy Autoroute was a good change for her.She watched the fields and vineyards go by; the occasional town with the typical mix of ancient and modern structures. Everywhere there were clusters of what could only be called tract houses. Yet most of them, with tile roofs, stucco walls and generally traditional coloring, seemed to blend in with the older buildings. And where the truly ancient farmhouses and outbuildings stood, the contrast was striking, emphasizing the age and. More

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