He shifted his hand supporting her from her waist to her buttocks, massaging a cheek and teasing her anus with his fingers. The other hand holding her...raised leg moved on to a breast, squeezing and fondling, dexterous fingers drawing circles around her aureoles and then timidly pinched her hard nipples.He picked up cues telling him it was working: drawn out throaty sounds and spasms of contractions. But not enough, he weighed. He (reluctantly) removed his hands from her breast, and roamed. ‘My finest pate,’ Anthony replied. ‘Finely-minced liver, with orange peel and ginger, mixed with my own secret seasoning.’ He winked to the matronly woman. ‘I dare say it will not last until the main course, but it will satisfy and leave you begging for more.’ ‘Ooo . . . .’ Anthony stepped back, prideful heart beating as his guests all but set upon the new treat like vultures upon a fresh kill. His return to the kitchen was scarcely noticed. The pate was all that occupied them, inspiring more. More

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