“Honey? Honey it’s OK.” She tried to sound as reassuring as possible. “I. I’m really.” He tried to babble out a few more words before she...cut him off. “It’s fine, look.” She pointed to the troublesome box “There’s the box with the cloths. Take that and use the shower downstairs, there are towels and everything you will need in the bathroom.” He made to speak but she cut him off. Placing her hand on his shoulder she said “Honey, it’s really fine. You’re a seventeen year old boy, I know how. I pushed it down and right between her legs it jutted, pressing up in her crease, anointing her tiny prick with my essence as she undulated."Please," she sighed, her head on my shoulder as I poked at her, probing hard, "be gentle. My husband was seventy, nearly seventy when he died in my bed, in my arms. He only..." She stopped as I resisted the temptation to have her where she stood and pulled her from her feet, laid her upon the bed and tucked her under the covers. She sighed, and I pulled my. He was bathed in a low light from his desk lamp, leaving shadows highlighting his strong bare shoulders and face. I laid there for a moment watching him, seeing the concentration on his face and the way he sat with such tension in his body, I knew he must be working. He’d been working on a project all day and now into the night. He was so sexy, just sitting there in his pajama pants, focusing so hard on the project laid out on his desk. As I laid there watching him, I couldn’t help but admire. With the peaceful and slow outpouring of rain, it does not take long before we are both drenched in its beauty. Your hands find my torso and seductively push my shirt overhead exposing my vulnerabilities, allowing my skin to be free from its confinement. As your strong hands journey back to my body the water eases them across my breast and you intensify your grip as your desire fascinates you. I struggle to catch my breath, my balance, as I slowly expose your chest to the orchestra of rain that.
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