I caught my first glimpse of her cleavage. Perhaps she hadn’t changed her mind after all. She finished removing her blouse, revealing a lacy white b...a. Her eyes held mine, as if daring me to fixate on her breasts. Her hands went behind her back to unclip her skirt. She stepped forward out of the puddle it made on the floor. In matching, pretty underwear she looked at me expectantly. My fingers fumbled slightly on my buttons, and then my shirt followed the shrug and blouse onto the chair. I. The three watched the action intently. Megan paid special attention to the college girl, the way her resistance steadily eroded into nothing, not that Megan blamed her. Women liked that sort of thing: A strong, take charge lover who knew what she wanted and was willing to do what it took to get it. How many times had she gone out, met a guy and thrown out every signal she could think of only to have him wimp out in the end? Megan reviewed her mental catalogue of frustration... too many times to. More

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