I could not move my right hand down to adjust things nor did I want to pull my left hand from its resting place around her belly and just brushing the...bottom of her right breast. Besides, she had a tight grip on it. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I'm cold." With that she pushed her bottom back. I groaned as my rapidly rising hard-on glanced off her butt and slid up her low back. "What are you doing, you pervert?" asked Patty."I can't help it." I said, feel miserable about myself. "I tried to. His colour that made his origins so indefinable, there was black ancestry, she knew, from his full-lipped kisses, there was Caucasian, from the colour of his eyes –or was it middle-eastern or Jew? She couldn’t tell, and he never told. His hair was rich chocolate in thick waves that she loved to run to her hands through (no African prominence there)… His colour, rich gold, deep bronze when he’d been sun-kissed, his skin so taut, so fluid, so delicious to bite… His member (definite African. More

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