But she was wrong. Really wrong. Clamping down on his hand, she squeezed her eyes shut hard as her body shook."That's my beautiful girl," he whispered...almost soundlessly, continuing to stroke her, but more slowly as he eased her back down. "That's my wonderfully responsive girl." He was aching but he wanted to give her proper sex, and there was no way he'd be ready for more than one more round tonight.He withdrew, tapping his fingertip against her lower lip. "Taste."Her tongue flicked out to. But Iwasn't. His lips were just as soft as any girls' lips were. They justdidn't have a flavored lip gloss on them.Here I was, kissing Chase on the beach with our feet in the ocean atsunset. He definitely planned this.Another wave hit us above our knees so we broke off our kiss. I was in adaze and just stared into his eyes. We returned to the drier part of thebeach. He was holding my hand.I looked down and noticed that my white tank top was now see-through. Youcould totally see my bra. That. The power of the anatomy inside my mouth and between my fingers is almost overwhelming. Although I am typically a fiercely-independent woman well on her way up the corporate ladder, the sight – or even the mere mention – of this anatomy causes me to swoon. Here I am, a member of the majority, kneeling before a member of the minority, yet I feel – deep in my heart, I absolutely, positively, undoubtedly KNOW – that this is where I belong: on my knees, between these thighs, adoring and even. With Jenny rushing about upstairs, collecting a few items of clothing together, I played the part of host as her guests began bumbling into the kitchen demanding either coffee or toast, as for their conversation this was restricted to comments such as, “great party…never again…fucking hell did you see so and so.” When the cackle got too much I made my way upstairs collected my camera and films then doing the same with the rest of my gear slowly made my way out to the car. Walking back into.
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