But even as he threw back the sheets, he heard a faint bumping of the bedhead, and a feminine voice again, though he could not make out the words. He ...ozed she was obviously not unhappy. At five just as dawn broke, the whole bedhead battering tattoo began again, and again at eight, he got up and made tea, and was sat drinking it, as he heard the loo flush upstairs, his mind doing cartwheels. Lenny appeared, dressed, and fit as a butchers dog, a spring in his step. He accepted the offer of tea. I slipped my hands lower and yanked his pants down over his nice round ass. He let out a soft gasp and his small hands pulled at my clothing. “It’s not fair you’re still fully dressed!” Soon after the words left his lips we were both completely naked and my hands had developed a mind of their own. I gripped his ass, pinched his bright pink nipples, and ran my hand over his hard erection. It seemed like I’d never be able to regain control of my hands. He was on top and grinding himself down. My mother spoke to me, "John, there is something wrong here. You and Cara need to talk and get this worked out. She was crying when we hung up. I don't care what you think, Cara loves you and you need to get that head of yours on straight."There is no use arguing with mom. She's probably where I got this bull headed gene from anyway. I went over to the couch and tried to sleep. I was getting pretty used to sleeping on couches.I got up the next morning trying to figure out what I was going to. She cleared them aside of her milky spheres, exposing the nipples for her man’s next inevitable move. He leaned in and breathed deep from her perfumed tresses. His hands came around her torso and cupped the masses, tweaking the nipples. His hands kneaded the natural man toys, proving to the audience what they had suspected from the dancer’s free movements: her tits were real. The dancer leaned her head against his cuddling face with one hand furtively stealing back to rub his crotch… Behind.