He caressed me with his hands, learning every curve of me as a woman. While desire heated his blood and tightened his groin. His erection stiffening...and pressing into my stomach. He began to discover the places- some of them unexpected- that drew soft purrs of pleasure, or slow gasps of desire from me. He began to know me as no other. As he slipped his hand upward along my legs to the heart of me, I was hot and moist. I parted my thighs and my hands fell still on his body, as his fingers. Me, too. But we can’t, not now. But, tonight, when the men have left the forest, again. I want that, again, too.” I glanced down, again. My smile got bigger with that new feeling once again coursing through my young body, the top of his cock was poking out of his sheath. “You better put that away, though, boy. We’re going to be charging through the brush in just a few minutes.”And, just like that, I was in control, again. The game wasn’t going to change today, or likely even tomorrow,. "Ellen thinks in her head "Why did I allow her to talk me into this?" Meanwhile Martha pours a glass of wine and presses it into the blonde's hand. Ellen takes a large swallow. Martha takes it back and does the same, then hands it back again, leaving a lipstick smear on the rim. Ellen drains the glass, feeling the alcohol go to her head immediately. Then she tries one last time to back out..."I haven't even done my bikini line." I don't care about your bikini line. This is art, not a Playboy. The only problem I faced was about her exaggerated screaming while we fucked especially when she approached her climax. She used to shout ‘Bo ka Shodha’ frequently which I never understood long as I did not know Bengali. Purnima herself told me later that it just meant ‘Mother fucker.’ I smiled to myself as it perfectly suited me as I have done my mother on the bed probably more than my Dad. We lived in a decent apartment in Ghaziabad from where we traveled to Delhi everyday for work. I worked.