The kisses are no more wanting, they are needing, urging. I scratch from your back to your hips, dipping my fingers into the waist band of your trouse...s teasingly. Moving from the front to the back never removing my fingers. I lower my head to your stomach, nibbling my way to your belly button, dipping my tongue in, savouring the noise you make. Slowly moving lower, my hands trailing up and down your calfs under your trousers occasionally scratching. Your hands are playing with your nipples, I. She rose unsteadily, and Marc took her arm. She accepted his assistance gratefully; with all the liquor she'd drunk and the soporific effect of the sun, she doubted she could make it to the door without it.She giggled and took her empty glass as they walked to the sun porch. Marc opened the door and waited for her to enter. He led her to the tweed couch, and, in spite of her apprehension, she sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. He continued to talk of generalities as he crossed to the. More

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