‘Madam,’ he said, adopting his cultured British speech, ‘I am neither French, nor a dolt, and if you had not been walking backwards, while yakki...g into your cell phone and instead actually looking where you were going, you would not be wearing my coffee, nor the raspberry preserves that I was going to put on my croissant. Besides, they do not serve muffins here.’ He was impressed that he had managed to keep a straight face and his temper as he said that. He watched her go through several. Caitlin leaned over and pulled Chriss face towards hers. She kissed him, hers fingers gliding over his head. His moustache tickled her nose. Chris pulled her body closer to him, his hands on her ass. He pulled her up a bit so she could move her legs to straddle him. She could feel his cock under her. It was hard. They kissed passionately. Caitlin moved her hands down Chriss body. She fumbled briefly with the button and zipper on his pants. Chris tilted his pelvis so Caitlin could slide his. More

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