For someone with a fetish for sexy outfits like I have, it was an amazing place. And this just added to my secret problem, and made me even more self...conscious. What added to that was the fact that because of all the time that girls spent staying in great shape, and maintaining perfect year round tans, for the most part they aren't the most well read or educated women to converse with. And this was the one area that I had something to offer in any hope of a relationship. My wit, sense of. I pushed my mouth to the tender flesh, where her arm met her ribs, and kissed at the bush and her sensitive pit. A vibration teased into me from a long, drawn moan of amorous submission. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.Your tongue doesn't stop either, does it."*"Shit. Sometimes I think it's more in control than my dick, or my brain."My appetite was whet, my energies rekindled. I raised myself up and off her, got out of bed and held out my hand. She took it tightly, rose up leisurely and stretched, willowy. Her name was Elizabeth, but we all called her Lizzie much to her dislike.She was dressed in her choir girl costume because this was part of the bishop’s ritual scenario and I could see her plump behind quivering underneath the white robes with youthful enthusiasm.In all honesty I had never been into her ass or feminine folds in a sexual manner but I had taken advantage of her innocence before to grope her private parts and juicy bits with great pleasure. She was a willing wench and ready to. ” That was all she said, but her eyes--her eyes. They appraised me from head to toe, taking in everything from the greying at my temples to the cut of my suit to the gold signet ring on my right ring finger. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that those eyes could see right into my very thoughts, which right about now were decidedly impure. I set my drink down on the centre table and leaned forward, inhaling her intoxicating scent of some kind of soft floral scent and cigarette.