With a breast in each hand, he works my nipples. He rains kisses into my hair. As I lean into the warm dampness of his chest, I can feel his rigid coc... against my back. I turn to him, telling him I want him now. I beg him to take me. He says he wants me to claim it myself. He tells me I’m almost there and closes his hand over mine once more upon my clit. I tremble. I feel it coming like a runaway train. I arch my back into our hands, easing my ass up off the floor, straining. I want it so. Well…some of the nights rolling around in bed. Maybe it was because her body was at his mercy. He was a master at making her body sing, her mind go blank, and her senses come alive with just a look. All of which he had proven time and again, even going as far as to torture answers out of her. The man could make ordinary things seem sexual to the extreme. Honoria could feel her cheeks grow warmer, the blush traveling down to her breasts, making the nipples tighten in awareness. She would never. I think if my heart beats any faster it will explode. You kneel beside me reaching down and pressing your hand onto my bushy mound slipping in between the swollen lips to find my hard little knob of pleasure. I whimper. I am hungry for your cock and move closer to you so that you can straddle my head and drop your cock into my mouth. I feel you tear away the garter and remove the stockings and heels. You also unhook the bra, letting it fall away exposing my breasts. You spread my thighs licking. This was a tough year for the judges. All the entries were excellent." the M.C. said, glancing down at his notes.I wondered if any announcer anywhere had ever said it was an easy decision."One hundred and thirty-six articles were submitted to the panel by the editors of local papers. The panel managed to cull them down to the final eight, represented here tonight. These eight articles represent the very best of high school journalism in the western United States. The Bothwell foundation is.