Beetlesmith was either a certifiable loon, or a biochemical genius. Generally when things sound too good to be true, they usually are, too good to be ...rue—which is another way of saying the whole thing is a fantasy. So I was leaning toward the former position. The elixir was either a fabulous practical joke played on yours truly—but why go to all that trouble to fool a stranger you will never see again?—or it was real, or, at least, real enough to have someone pay a thousand dollars. That was. Our lips nibbled on each other. Our tongues dueled. I whimpered as I thrust open her blouse, my hand squeezing her small breast through her bra, her nipple hard.Her tongue fluttered around in my mouth as I played with her nipple. She finished unbuttoning my blouse. Her fingers caressed my naked torso and circled my bellybutton, sending fire rushing through me. My legs whisked together in my pants. I was the only one of us that wore them.I hated skirts, but ... They did make things naughty.As my. More

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