Meeting Gwen at school was like supercharging my obsession and I was more determined than ever to do what they said couldn’t be done.Silly? Sure, bu... dreams ... dreams are powerful things. Lust is too.So here we were, after a drunken Saturday evening at the pub discussing girls we fancied, we wound up in the infamous Tower of London. Markus, a classmate and son of a minor lord, had a part time job giving tours here to school children. He had been a history major at school, before switching to. And the voice was coming closer.‘We don’t have long, Jean. Haven’t you missed me?’Suddenly, the voice was right next to her. It grabbed her neck with chunky, gristled hands and shoved her against the cabin wall. The voice opened its mouth, and bared its teeth, yellow and rotten, with the brutal odour of desire pulsating with heavy breathing.Jean wanted to scream, but the voice had its hand on her mouth, and the other somewhere else. Words could not express her distress. Her hand still gripped. .would she like be involved?”....Deliciously arousing images filled your mind of the receptionist using you, enjoying the pleasures we are going to share this weekend. Vivid images of,...the receptionist applying nipple-clamps, then pulling hard as she enjoyed your moans......using a paddle on your breasts, then her soft lips kissing and sucking on your hard nipples......her hands holding your head tight to her pussy, enjoying your tongue as you please her...The images filling your mind, making. It might not seem like a grand gesture, but be honest: how many times has a girl kissed your hand the way gentlemen-of-old kissed ladies’ hands? She held my fingers and pressed her lips to my knuckles.“You’re precious!” she told me affectionately. “Leave it in my hands. We’ll go back to your place after lunch and you can get me the key. I’ll pick up the stuff through the week and we’ll get it all set up next Saturday.”That sounded good to me, so I paid the check, and the four of us returned to.