The next conscious moment was of a warm hand slidingover the welts on her thigh. The fingers traced thelengths of the raised bruises as a blind man re...dsBraille. She rolled instinctively towards the touch,opening her sore self once again to his pleasure. His hand moved to her inner thigh, caressing andprodding. As his fingers found the swollen and tenderlips of her cunt, their sleepy moans echoed the achingdesire kindling with the sun. She moved her hands above her head to grasp theheadboard.. We went up to the door together and Beall knocked. A well-dressed, old black man answered and said, very polite, that Mr. Peter was at home and would we come in and wait. We did and stood admiring the papered walls, painted wainscot, tall clock, high ceilings and gold-framed pictures.Pretty soon, here came the master of the house, without a wig and in a black suit and soft shoes. His forehead was high, and his hair was thin, gray and cut short where it showed near his soft cap. He didn't offer. That was something much more entertaining than TV."Don't even put your shirt on," she said. She emphasized her desire by kneeling on the bed and stripping her nightshirt off over her head. "Now, it's YOUR responsibility to keep me warm!" her grin was precious, melting my heart, and firming up another part of me quite handily.I crawled over the end of the bed to meet her. "How absolutely beautiful you are, Cindy," I said. And I meant it. I looked at her and saw absolute perfection, perfection. I'd love to pull those tiny shorts down and slide into her from behind. The thought running my hands over her water-soaked body, and caressing her back, or reaching around to cup those magnificent breasts, drives me wild. I imagine the slightly cool feel of her damp skin as I hold her down and fuck her hard, making her beg me to fuck her harder still. Damn, I'd love to give it to her like that. There are times where I'd like to toss her up on the car and discover just how wet and ready she.