She had a large table in the dining room across from the sitting room. It had stacks of papers all over it. I assume graded and ungraded assignments. ... could hear the soft pad of her feet as she came back down the hall. She handed me a glass of water and then sat down on the couch next to me, curling her legs up to her side as she sat. “So, are you still as attracted to me now as you were two years ago?” I nearly chocked on my water. “Pretty much,” I replied not knowing how else to respond to. Cool between her legs. She is exposed. Truly naked now. Her eyes are closed. She does not see.His eyes are open. There is no way he does not see what is there. Moist. Glistening. So. The rules fade. They are replaced with something more instinctual. And with that instinct comes an almost irresistible pull. Sensation. Promise. Pleasure. She is female. She is prone. She is passive. She needs to be touched. She is patient. He is male. He is active. He is leading. He needs to touch. His hands. More

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