He helped her up onto the rock and pulled her body close to his. “Laura, I promise you a lifetime of happiness, love, joy and passion. I’ve waite... thirteen years hoping that the little blonde girl who fell out of an apple tree and broke her arm would one day be mine.” She pulled back from him and untied the sash and let her robe drop to the rock at her feet. Her body and hair shimmered in the moonlight with a silver glow. Glancing down Laura could see the outline of his erection straining. But right now the adrenalin was beginning to wear off, he was starting to feel hunger pangs and he was with people whose company he was thoroughly enjoying. Added to which the thought of a reheated meal in a lonely apartment was not at all appealing. “Screw the clients,” he thought, I’ll make it up to them later.” It took Greg time to get off stage as cast and stage crew alike were queuing up to congratulate him and by the time he got back to the dressing room the perspiration had dried under. He had never seen her nude, of course, and he stared at her dark brown nipples, erect with anxiety, her wonderful legs, and her shaven crotch. He had always wondered whether she shaved. She was crying now, knowing what was in store, but he didn’t care. He leaned down to caress her left nipple with his tongue. God, she tasted fantastic, and she groaned a sob as her situation became more clear. He lightly sucked her left nipple, while grasping at her right breast with his left hand. She was. L'occasione propizia non ci mette molto ad arrivare : dopo un racconto che avevo scritto mi manda una mail dicendomi che secondo lei la storia che avevo scritto pareva vera o per lo meno verosimile, allora le dico quella che è la verità , cioè i miei racconti prendono spunto da avvenimenti reali successi a me o ad altri a cui aggiungo elementi di fantasia. A questo punto decido di provocarla e di chiederle come mai legge i miei racconti e soprattutto perché li commenta così spesso, forse le .