Inside was a matched set of brushes and combs, silver with ivory inlays, that looked brand new. The handles were embossed with initials, A J M, in flo...ery script. I knew instantly they belonged to Agnes. Her full name was Agnes Jane Merchant. I knew from one of their letters that her husband had sent them to her while he was still in service, and that they were Italian. There was also twelve assorted hat pins, tipped in ivory and stones. I knew we would be looking them up soon.When we fully. The storm meant that he would have to close up the house and shutters, a task that he despised. It meant getting out in the wind driven sands, setting up the ladder and working those rusted hinges. He had been meaning to oil them, but like most things lately, he kept telling himself it could wait. As Michael continued to work his way around the house, window by window, rusted hinge by rusted hinge, his thoughts continued to swirl around the woman...her beuatiful light brown hair, her legs,. Moaning with each wave of orgasm flowing throughout her body. Her orgasm was unlike anything Ive ever seen. and gave her slit a slowly, gentle kiss. That was the hardest Ive ever came.. She then grabbed my hand and brought it to her mouth, she began licking and sucking my fingers, cleaning them completely. I realized then that she loved the taste of her own cum. This was pure erotic lust. I kissed her drenched lips one last time. It was strange, making a person you hardly know moan and scream. They stayed dead level with me. If I slowed down, they did too, and the same if I speeded up. I checked all my mirrors. There was nothing coming either way.I was actually quite enjoying being ogled, so I pulled my skirt up as far as I could, which I am sure would have exposed my panties a little.Then the guy got his mobile out and started taking pictures of me. That did it for me. I was a performer again, and I loved the power it gave me.I switched off the air-con and wound my window down so.