Yes, Bethany wanted the man to have an orgasm. Yes, she wanted to taste his creamy orgasm and savor its unique flavor and texture. She didn't care abo...t it as a gift of an orgasm for him. She cared about it for the singular thrill of doing it. Making these men experience an orgasm had been a form of victory, a salty surprise for a job well done. Getting the man naked had been part of the dance. Never mind how easy it was to find a man willing to expose the very essence of his manhood to the. "Try crossing your legs instead, and keeping your hands resting in yourlap as opposed to crossed like you've got them," she smiled, looking upat me as she strapped the buckle on the shoe tight. "It'll make it looklike you're less defensive and nervous as well." I decided to try thisand swung my right leg over my left. It did feel more comfortable, I hadto admit."Thank you love," I smiled as Abbie finished putting my other shoe on."You're welcome sweetie," she beamed, and offered her hands to. ??The defenders are buriedtogether up there, the grave unmarked. Ten years later a monument was erected in our local cemetery. It still lists the namesand the Clans of those 63 men. There be a 64th entry, an ?Abigail o? theMacgregor?s Clan?, but none now know the meaning of that.?The old man?s eyes glistened and he drained the pint. I signaled for another round. As the publican set the pintbefore him the old man?s stormy grey eyes swept over mein cold calculation. Suspicion and mistrust. Lying there, not moving my arm, even if my wife would happen to walk in, she would be clueless as to what I was doing. That is unless she saw the front of my pants Anyway, right now I am concentrating on not coming too soon. I want to milk this out for as long as possible (no pun intended). I take a deep breath and exhale. It feels so good. I slowly, tantalizingly, let the tip of my index finger stroke the underside of my cock once again. I feel it pulsing beneath my finger, begging for more if.