The strap of your night gown invites me to slide it down your arm even further. As I do, you crook your arm and the impediment is removed. Your breast...comes into full view in the dim light, your nipple, dark against the alabaster skin of your breast. Inviting my touch. Inviting my mouth. Inviting my tongue. I am in awe at the perfection. God made you a woman. God made you a perfect woman. God made you a desirable woman. And God gave this perfection to me. At this moment. In this. "Of course not Michele; what do you take me for? I just want a littleslap and tickle, a few kisses and maybe a rub here and there," Billwinked at her and Michele paled at the thought."What does a little slap and tickle involve Bill?" Michele asked,nervously puffing her cigarette."A bit of kissing, a bit of foreplay, that's all," Bill sucked at hiswine draining the glass."Why don't I pour us something a little smoother, a scotch and dryperhaps while you go and fix your makeup and make yourself. I got a nice idea to do some free show and see how she reacts and started kissing playing with her boobs over her clothes, at first she objected, as someone was watching us, I forced and in one blow unplugged her front open burkha buttons, and put my hand in her kurta and squeezed her boobs nice. She stopped protesting and let out a light moan. The boys started giggling and smiling.I grabber her hair and started fresh kissing her and squeezing her boobs.She started enjoying it and not sure if. I suppose there was one sticky moment when Eda's children first met mine. Our two seven - almost eight - year old daughters, possibly because Eda's daughter had a rudimentary knowledge of English she'd learnt in school - disappeared into the garden together almost the moment they were introduced. The two six-year-old boys, just stood and stared at each other for what seemed like ages. It was apparent to me that they were sizing each other up, and I'll admit I was wondering whether they were.