‘Good,’ Jeremy said, smiling at her. Brittany slowly got off the bench, her legs a bit shaky. ‘Now, you sit down,’ she instructed Jeremy. He g...adly did as he was told. His erect penis pointed up at the showerhead. Brittany straddled Jeremy, letting the head of his pole nestle into her wet, puffy opening. They stared into each other’s eyes, each anticipating a moment of immense pleasure. And then Brittany just sat down on Jeremy’s lap, his pole sliding into her easily, each of them letting out a. Jesus wept.Suddenly, again in the present time, I could only wonder: how could it be that a woman whose body was covered by a dress that exposed so little flesh — the top of her full bosom, her neck, her throat, her hands, her wrists — could seem so much more erotic than the virtually nude posturing of the slatterns who constitute what passes for modern eroticism?Knowing there was no rational answer to my question, my mind retreated again to the past.I smiled at her. First because her beauty. More

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