Thinking about his hard cock, or any animal genitalia got her heart racing. She stroked her hand back up his body and hugged him around the neck. She ...uzzled her face into his hair. It was still damp from his wash but she could sense the warmth of his body. He smelled faintly of sweat and musk. She ran her fingers through his mane and kissed his cheek. The horse turned slightly in her direction. Ingrid took the opportunity and kissed the horse on the big rubbery lips. Somehow he knew what she. I just always felt that these sessions were an extension of my regular lovemaking. I wanted her to have as much fun as she was giving me. One session stands out, and I didn't ever see her again or even get her name that night. I've noticed over the years There are transcendent times in a massage parlor. Moments that get stuck in your psyche. Moments you can replay while jerking off when your lonely and they are magic moments, as Perry Como once sang long ago. Those times when you’d swear the. ” ‘Flirting with the maids’: for some reason; perhaps it was the sun or the heat or the ready availability of partially clothed flesh parading before my ogling eyes; ever since arriving my body had become a seething mass of sexual need. I’d done my best to satisfy myself; my fingers never straying too far from the soft, pulsating crevice between my legs. Masturbation had become my only pastime; teasing myself by the pool; lying on my bed, legs spread wide, four fingers buried to the knuckle. I can’t watch this,’ the entire time leaning forward to get a better look. She smiled at her memory of watching in awe as his cock grew under the caresses of his hand, as his hand began to move up and down his rigid shaft, and as, after several minutes, his hips bucked violently into the air and semen shot out of his penis. ‘Jesus. He came. He had an orgasm.’ Then, as guilt set in, she remembered blushing as she thought, ‘I shouldn’t have watched him do that. I invaded his privacy.’ Her smile.