. nuzzling me softly with dark sinfil caress between my thighs and wicked hot kisses deep inside my vagina. I was circled with hot kisses and snuggles....bites.. l her hot touch burned on my skin. As the caress grew darker. “%relax’ she said. Fingering me slow..twirling her tongue higher hotter inside me.. suckling me deeply.slow.her tongue found my vagina and suckled deeply laying inside me with wicked wet kisses hot as sin her lips on my vagina dove. My breast rose to her breast as my nipple. Peter? I opened my eyes and looked up at her. Hi, I managed. What time is it? Late, darling. She stroked my forehead and climbed in next to me. She was still fully clothed. Neither Linda nor I smoked, but I could smell the odor of stale cigarettes in her hair. I wondered what his brand was. Suddenly, her hand went down under the covers and grabbed my iron-hard cock. The coolness of her hand was electrifying. Are you mad at me, darling? she asked quietly. Hell no, I said with a grin. But I will. I looked at her. I was the professor here, as I recalled. This child had an agenda. ‘Show me,’ she insisted. ‘I want to learn how you like to be touched.’ I started slowly to stroke myself. Long strokes from the head to the base. She kissed my ear. Nibbled the lobe. Kissed my neck. I kept stroking slowly. ‘Touch your balls.’ She urged. ‘Touch ’em.’ I fondled my balls. She kept kissing my neck. I stroked a little faster. ‘Not so fast,’ she said. ‘My turn.’ She started to stroke me. She kissed. .. the boulder we high centered on stopped us ... and it was just a little waterfall ... not much more than 10 feet ... okay ... fifteen ... maybe.There used to be a road through that swampy meadow ... I was following the stagecoach wheel ruts. We were fine. Of course ... the last stagecoach ran in 1880 ... what’s a hundred years?One thing for sure ... I’m going back for the wheel. It isn’t every day a guy finds an abandoned stagecoach wheel. If I hadn’t been so loaded down with fussy.