The stream died, and she looked up at him, without the pressure of the fluid the nettles began to straighten, lightly contacting her between her damp ...abia. Her eyes rolled, he knew the effect it was causing, and the willpower involved to remain there in contact, so he waited a second or two, then took her hand easing her to her feet. She stood relieved, but still smarting in the crevice of love, his command “show me the playroom” had them hand in hand walking up through the house, she led him. Moving his hands down her neck through her short dark hair to her collar; the buttons on her shirt offer little resistance as he pulls them apart on the way to his reward. He bends down to kiss the base of her throat and across the top of her breasts. Such a beautiful sight. He wants to enjoy all of her. Spinning her around and pushing her up against the stack of hay he easily unhooks her bra under the back of her shirt and offers them the support of his hands instead. They are the perfect. More

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