She had been freed, emancipated, yet also thwarted. Torn from a dangerous and outrageous fantasy that had been germinating inside her. It started in...her subconscious with the knowledge of the gold wings but was quickly surfacing after tonight’s close call, and being named queen. At least half of the party just watched her dance. The oh-so-beautiful one that had escaped a freight train full of lust, as she spun gracefully with her arms over her head. She looked part ballerina, part native. She moved to a seat and sat there looking at me for a few minutes. I was getting nervous with her steady gaze. "Ok." She said again, "here's how it went..." He kept talking to me promising me that he just wanted to make me feel good and nothing would happen. He said he wasn't even going to take his pants off if that was what I was afraid of." "He told me that I was being silly and getting upset for nothing." "He told me that if I would just relax he would show me what he was talking about." At. Mrs. Mahmoud was a cold fish.She wore a severely tailored business suit and huge black rimmed glasses that made her plain unpainted face look even more depressing than if she had been wearing traditional attire. Her waist was a bit thick and her hips were at a disadvantage in the tight skirt. Her upper body was generously proportioned and the slight droop due to gravity was not particularly unappealing. In all honesty, he would have to admit she looked like a better than average candidate for a. With your free hand, you guide my fingers to your breast. Your hand over mine you encourage me to explore. Are you awake? Or, are you dreaming? A deep sigh and your body shifts again. You grip me tighter. My cock pulses in your hand with a life of its own. You release me. Disappointment floods through my body. Moments later you grind against me and my cock rests between the two soft mounds of your hot little ass. Are you awake? My hand releases your breast and slides down.