No, I was too into Greta. In it all, I took pictures of her in clothes, lingerie, and simply erotic like underwear and with the look in her blue eyes ...nd that red hair of hers she is simply a woman that demands attention in a specific way. I loved photographing her. It was hard to get her out of my thoughts. Night time came. Greta and I ate. We sat down. We were alone. “Greta, I have to ask you a question,” I said. She turned to me and asked what it was. “You know many a man must and probably. His office contained painting supplies, which explained why it was empty. Then he rigged sound and heat sources in the house so it seemed like two people were in a back bedroom, on the second floor. The first floor had cinder block walls which would contain and reflect any blast while the second floor was conventional construction. Thermobaric bombs (gas-air, like the hockey pucks in the Underworld movies, but much more powerful) were placed around the inside of the house. They were unique and. A slight misstep and the tip briefly contacted the inner front of her left thigh. I was mortified. For a few seconds there was no change in her behavior. Then, there was a perceptible difference in the posture her body took, and she moved closer to me and the formerly inadvertent touch was reestablished. The connection was not so direct or overt, but rather it felt like a tentative exploration that made brief but sure contact, abandoned the field momentarily, then closed in again. It was if. I slowlycarressed it and travelled it down between your legs and gently rubbed your panty covered pussy. You responded casually by telling me you didn't think I'd find it there. You didn't turn or object so I continued to playfully rub it through your panties. You continued to search although I was convinced you had thoroughly covered the area at hand. your panties were becoming moist as your juices began to lubricate yourslit. I slowly unzipped my pants, you pretended not to notice. I inserted.