The hugs between us continued - his wanting to be around me, or did I now what to be around him - and his constant demands. His hands found their way ...o my bottom whenever we were alone and near him.The three feet of snow melted slowly and we found ourselves in a early spring - Steven told me not to wear more leggings. Nervously, in case Greg should notice, I was bare legged and wearing skirts each and every day. Steven seemed pleased at my shapely firm legs but a package arrived in the mail. Holding a fleshy cheek with one hand, he ran his tip along her moistened slit.Hearing her moan, he pushed against her wet lips and into her without any hesitation. Her tight warmth wrapped around his shaft and squeezed him as he sank deeper. He was amazed at how wet she was. Holding onto her hips, he built a rhythm as his speed quickened. Seeing her upper body splayed over his marble counter only increased his lustful movements.Mike felt his balls tighten, and he knew she was right about how. The room was obviously used to tailor the leather gear on display outside, and was filled with tables, sewing machines, manikins and newly altered items, tagged and hanging on racks.Closing the door behind us, and visibly locking the deadbolt, she sat down in a leather recliner and waited, not saying a word.I undid the fly of my pants, pulling them down a bit, then lowered the gym shorts underneath. I saw her cock an eyebrow and lean forward a bit. Next came the boxer briefs and, finally, with. The witching hour. The hour when things were not always as they appeared to be. She turned to the guy on the stool to her right. He was in costume, of course. They all were. Dark, dark hair and oddly mesmerizing eyes. Deep and mysterious, she found herself instantly drawn to them and then into them. His eyes were such a stark contrast to his skin. Pale, almost pearly white in the dim light of the bar. He was wearing a rather shabby black suit, cut in an old-fashioned style. A scent of something.
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