She was a single woman, interested in music looking for men at a concert, no harm in that (no, she’s dangerous, my mind bouncing back to images of c...n artists and psychosis). Then came the self-doubt (why on earth was she interested in me?) I tried to banish the usual paranoid inner-dialog and I began to wonder if I would sneak away into the night like a coward (aka a sensible fellow) or if I would obey her directive. Which was more courageous? Which was more cowardly? Which was stupid. It was. She pulled me from my kneeling position on the floor and pulled me tight against her body and began to passionately kiss me. Knowing that she was mine, that she would always be mine, made my cock almost painfully hard. I’m sure emily felt it because I felt her smile and then her hand making it’s way down my chest and stomach, toting with my zipper. I moaned into our kiss. I could feel every little movement of her fingers on my stiff member. I waned release. I wanted to feel my fiance’e hand. More

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