" Slowly sliding down her body, biting her skin wherever it was exposed, he pushed himself up, perfectly aligning his head between her crotch. He swep... his tongue along her inner thighs, trying to ignore the intoxicating smell of her sex. He honestly wanted to skip the foreplay and just sink into her, but Iris wasn't the kind of woman you could just fuck. She needed the love, attention, and affection. He held her thighs firmly in his hands. Switching his attention to her other thigh, he softly. But my girl is happily married, and I knew that. I tried like hell to just keep it about sex but, well, I just can’t make it that way. She is a special woman and I know that I can never have her,” he finished.I asked why he would say that.“She is in love with her husband,” he said simply.“How would you know that?” I asked.“Dude, all she does is talk about him. How he makes her feel so good and womanly. How he picks her up emotionally. She told me how he put her through college, and supported. Thus the argument started. The Beech tree insisted that the sapling was a Son of a Birch, while the Birch tree said it was a Son of a Beech. On the argument went.During one day while the argument raged, flew a woodpecker. The princes, came upon an idea.“Mr. Woodpecker, you are familiar with wood are you not.”“Why yes. You could say I’m somewhat of an expert. I’ve perched upon gnarly oaks, shaded under weeping willows, and even sampled the sap of the sweet maples. What can I do for you. "Um, no we're not," I say, and Michael smiles. "Cool, so...he wouldn't be upset if-" "What are you doing?" I ask, and take a step back as he steps toward me. "You are seriously the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen," Michael says, reaching for me. His long, skinny fingers greedily grab my waist, and I'm already pushing him away. "Thank you, but we can't do this," I reply, trying to pull his arms away from me. "Why? We don't have to tell anyone," he says, and grabs me again, trying to.