His other hand wiggled underneath my head, grasping a handful of my hair and tilting my head back. We kissed for an eternity, wrapped up in each other... mostly even oblivious to our states of undress. My hand was on his chest, enjoying the feeling of his firm muscles underneath the smooth skin.Anxious, and feeling like perhaps Alistair was procrastinating just a little bit out of fear, I finally grabbed the hand that was stroking my hip and stomach and impatiently pulled it upward. Not fighting. "So do you." I still ain't got no clothes," I whined, turning down the quilt and exposing my tired shaft."Cover that thing up," she said. "They'll be along. Tell me about that groove on your cheek there and the thing on your forehead." Hm," I felt it and recalled hanging by my feet in that Tory farmer's smelly barn down in South Carolina or somewhere and getting whacked with his razor strop. "Man caught me with his daughter," I said, which had some of the truth in it. The strap had left bruises. More

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