She ran her hand up my thigh, and over my pulsating, wet (almost dripping) pussy. She shoved me against the tile wall and unbuttoned my shirt. "Don't ...ou worry," She said. "I'm gonna make you feel amazing." She said, with a hint of evilness in her eyes. She ripped my shirt off, and cupped my breast. Gently stroking my small, pink, erect nipple. I bit my lip, and let out a small moan. God, her hands felt good against my tits. She got on her knees, and teased my nipple with her tongue. Slowly. Sylvia’s parents had met George; they knew she was seeing him again, after the break for his anthropological expedition. They didn’t know she was living with him, not that it was any of their business. She was fairly sure that they didn’t know, though they’d probably guess if he answered the phone -- which he would do, did frequently. And George’s stuff didn’t really take up that much room. He kept his field notes, originals and typed copies, in four separate stacks. He’d bought -- with money. More

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