Then very slowly I moved them closer to her the inside of her thighs. To my amazement she still gave no signs of negative body language. She was still...on her constant grind on my crotch. My hands slowly moved under her dress up her thighs – still no sudden movements or reflexes for me to stop. My fingers were so close to her pussy that I knew i had made it. I was destined to finger her. As my hand came to a close on its journey to her pussy I felt no hair – she was shaved, and good to go. I. I was left with no alternative but to confront her. Yet confrontation meant I would risk losing her; did I dare take the chance? I decided that as haste made waste, I would be better served to wait for a more opportune moment; an intimate moment, before demanding the truth from my sweet Aouda. So I turned away from my dilemma to concentrate my efforts on Passepartout.While Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot-boat, the others directed their course to the police-station at. More

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