Finally, I reached back to take her hand and moved away, breathing deeply.”Rithika,” I started, not sure what to say. I wanted to tell her that I ...anted her desperately. She kissed me again, as if she didn’t know what to say either. This time, she kissed my face, my neck and shoulders.”Malathi, Mam,” she whispered, “I want you so much.” I moved to her, in her arms, letting her kiss me, caress me. It felt so wonderful to be touched by her. With a deep breath, she moved away, taking my hand in. 'The idea was to cut the subject many times in arteries that were close to the surface of the skin. In the neck, arms, wrists and groin. If done correctly, the subject would bleed to death slowly from so many wounds that it was impossible to staunch the flow of precious blood.Caught in Marisol's furious fusillade of flying blades, Chekhov turned and staggered to his car, bleeding profusely. He drove off.Marisol gathered up all the knives, that didn't stick in Chekhov, and brought them back in. She looked into Richard's eyes and licked her lips playfully, before kneeling in front of him. Slowly she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. She eased them down to his knees, revealing a pair of low-rise briefs that were struggling to contain his throbbing cock. She pulled back the soft cotton material and let his manhood spring free. She was favorably impressed – his cock appeared to be about 7 inches long, fairly thick, and very nicely shaped. She could see a little drop of pre-cum. “I will admit that your praise for my breasts quite turned my head. It wasn’t nearly as poetic as you mistaking me for a cello, but I’m afraid to show them to you now. I’m sure you’ll be disappointed after such a build-up.”“What did I say?” I asked in trepidation.“I shan’t remind you,” she said primly. “But if you don’t erupt the moment you see them, I shall be quite disappointed in you,” she smiled.By this time her fingertips had touched my shaft, and she smiled, “You certainly didn’t lie.