Morgan was lying back on the couch with her eyes closed, catching her breath. I looked over at Dita. She had this look on her face as if she didn't kn...w what to do next. Dita moved to the blanket below the couch. I was resting on my knees between Morgan's legs. Dita approached me and pushed me back and took my place between Morgan's legs. Morgan was still leaning back on the couch with her eyes closed. I watched as Dita leaned down between Morgan's legs and licked the opening of her pussy where. Yes, it was him and he had certainly overheard you in the crowd. But the knowledge of it brings a relief as you relax, knowing that there’s no better time and place to be caught in your sexuality than this city, at this hotel and on this particular weekend. You laugh to yourself, knowing that this conversation is likely not the only one taking place this weekend. As you continue chatting, the conversation, warm and polite, becomes more flirtatious and not just from them. You notice suggestion. I reached over with the key on and turned on the radio, and beeped the horn… they all worked so I knew it wasn’t a dead battery, this time. The gauges told me that there was plenty of gas and the oil light wasn’t on, none of the idiot lights were lit or flashing. Hmmmm… my limited mechanical diagnostic skills were being eliminated fast. “Has it done this before today?” I asked Sarah with my head cocked slightly to one side as I worked the problem in my head. “No, this is the first time. That’s where she found out about men. She categorized men into three groups. There were the gropers, the dopers, and the studs. The worst were the studs. They thought they were God’s gift to women. If a stud asked you out, or tried to feel you up you were supposed to act grateful. The man downstairs didn’t fit any of her categories. Maybe that was why he scared her. When he looked at her he wasn’t just thinking about sex, or sharing a joint, or showing her off like some deer on the hood of a.