I continue the journey back, pressing harder, drawing a little blood along your cock. You groan my name through gritted teeth. My hands surround you... cock, fingers poised so my nails will sc**** each side of your hardness. Placing my nails against your cock, I feel you shiver, your cock twitching, swelling. I swipe down with both hands at the same time, quickly, digging nails in just enough to leave red lines. You shove your hips out, your cock twitching and jumping in pleasure as you moan. "Peter fumbled with his pants for a few moments and replied, "Yeah, that's odd." What happened to you?" Jennifer asked, noticing Peter's actions."Oh nothing," Peter replied. "I just realized that I forgot to zip up my fly after the shower."Jennifer giggled. "Did you do that on purpose to get my attention, you sly dog?"Peter blushed. "No, of course not!"Shrugging, Jennifer continued, "Well, maybe I mispronounced the words. Do you think I should try again?" I don't see why not. In the worst case,. The Rusty Bell was no Three Seasons, nor was Feliks Moroe an Artuma. Certainly not in a physical sense. He was short, fat and seemed to sport his long, greasy hair with a pride that defied its stringy appearance. I arranged for a private room and two meals; tonight's dinner and tomorrow's breakfast.I found a small table by the fireplace and sat facing the middle of the room. The crowd here didn't look all that rough, but I didn't want to let any opportunistic types come to the opinion that I. ‘Everything gets better, Caleb. Especially if you want it bad enough.’ Surprisingly, Caleb hugged her back. ‘Thank you, Dr. Maury,’ he murmured. The teasing came out forced, but to Peyton that just meant he was trying. With a sigh she released him and looked up into his face. ‘Go unpack,’ she told him, ‘then get some rest. You look exhausted.’ Caleb nodded and walked to his room, hesitating as he went to close the door. With a shake of his head, he kept it open and Peyton watched for a second.