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What a fuckfest!

6/14/2000

Late Friday afternoon at the office and I was rushing to finish the
day. Marc would pick me up soon and the leftovers from a dreadful week
were crowding my weekend. I returned to my office after a particularly
unpleasant final exchange with a frustrated colleague and closed the
door. I took a deep breath and walked to my desk to begin the chore
of packing it up to take home for weekend catch up work. In the middle
of the blotter, on top of a pile of files, was a small, wrapped box
complete with ribbons and bows. The tag just said "Stacy." Still
rushed, but now intrigued, I sat down and picked up the box. It was
light in my hands, refused to rattle as I shook it, and gave up none
of its origins as I inspected it. I tore off its ribbons and wrapping
with increasing curiosity. First, the box gave up only a bunch of
pastel tissue paper. Unfolding the tissue, I reached the box's real
contents - a pair of bikini-style, ivory-colored panties. The sender
was obviously a person who knew my tastes since they also were
decorated with white lace panels at the front and sides and lace trim
at the top. Must be one of those little surprises Marc arranges when
he knows I've had a horrible week at work, I thought. Lifting the
panties from the box proved me wrong. A small card fell to my desk
from the folds of the material. As I picked it up, reading it quickly,
my heart skipped just a little. "From Roberto" was all the card said.
I leaned back in my chair and thoughts of clearing my desk were
replaced by thoughts of the previous Saturday afternoon. In this same
office that was frustrating me now, I had spent several hours with the
handsome, funny, warm and very sexy man who had just sent me this most
intimate gift. I had no mixed feelings about his gift - sending me
panties was his way of saying he, too, was remembering last Saturday.
I got the call late the previous Friday evening. Someone
from our staff needed to meet with one of our contractors
to finish an overdue project. My vice-president thought
it should be me. I thought his stealing my weekend sucked.
"I'm sorry Stacy, but this has to be finished for Monday, "
he said. "The contractor is sending Roberto...you met him last month,
remember?" I remembered very well. And my disappointment at losing
part of my Saturday began to change. A lot. Roberto was maybe the most
handsome man I could remember meeting in a long time. He was tall and
fit, with a slow smile and soft eyes. His voice, slightly resonant
with Latin rhythms, would sound seductive reading the obits. His gaze
was intense, but more engaging than intimidating, and his manner was
almost courtly in an Old World sort of way. I thought he must be about
fifty...but in these things, age doesn't count for much. "I'll be
there," I answered. "I think we can finish the project in a couple of
hours, " I added hoping my interest in spending time with Roberto
wasn't showing too much. I hung up the phone and turned to Marc. "I'll
need to go to the office tomorrow afternoon for a couple hours.
Roberto from the consultant's group needs my help with that brochure
we've been working on." "Isn't Roberto the one you have a little crush
on?" Marc teased and winked. I smiled at Marc's observation and that
was the end of our discussion of my assignment. I began to fret,
inside, about how I was feeling. Nearly all of my flirting and
literally all of my flashing included Marc in the planning and usually
in the doing. I was feeling a little guilty about my own interest in
"going it alone" with Roberto. My fretting continued into the next
morning as I waited for Marc to raise the subject, to let me off the
emotional hook, to suggest, as he often does, what he would like me
to do. No such luck. I seemed to be on my own. Marc had errands
to run and left after lunch with a quick 'see you when you get back
from the office' peck on the cheek. I had yet to decide how I wanted
to behave with Roberto, if or how much to tease him. My urge to push
our time together in a sexual direction was moderated by the fact that
we did have work to do. And I was unsure about how Marc would feel
about my "going solo." I didn't even have any idea what to wear...
which is rare. I went upstairs to our bedroom to solve that last
problem and found that Marc had opened the door to resolving most
to my conflicts. Sweet Marc. Lying on the end of the bed were
a brand new pair of panties and a matching flimsy little
bra, both a soft yellow pastel, flower print with white
lace edging. Laying on top of the panties was a note. I'm sure Roberto would love to see these, don't you think?
-- Marc The relief that Marc was (once again) encouraging me revved
up my anticipation. I felt my cheeks flush knowing that
Marc was pushing me in the direction I wanted to go, in the
direction of maximizing the feelings I had about being
with Roberto, in the direction of eroticizing my afternoon
as far as I could take it. Marc had also laid out a low-cut, nearly transparent blouse,
a short, soft red skirt and, of course, a garter belt and
stockings. I guess he was going to let me choose my own shoes.
I chose the four-inch heels, of course. Getting dressed was complicated by my own obsession with
devising ways to give Roberto a good "show." I ended up arriving
a few minutes late to find Roberto waiting in the parking
lot. As I pulled into the parking space next to his, he got
out of his car and opened mine. "I'm so sorry to be late," I began as I gathered my materials.
"I hope you didn't have to wait long." "Only a few minutes," he replied and smiled. "Not to worry."
I had decided that I had to go slow to see how Roberto would
react to my "encouraging" him to look at me. If he wasn't
interested, I was definitely going to back off. I didn't
do "flashing" at work. . .and this afternoon's session
with our consultant was very close to work. I was conscious of his gaze as I swung my legs out of the car,
careful, for now anyway, to keep my knees together. My eagerness
overcame my good judgment, however, and I managed to raise
my skirt to the lace edge of my stockings as I slid from the
seat of the car. Roberto just smiled and continued his pleasantries.
I took this as a good sign. We walked into the building and set up to work at the conference
table in my office. Our project was nearly complete but
needed review and tweaking for Monday. We both needed to
look at layouts for a brochure and rewrite some copy. We
began to step through the work. I began to take advantage of the opportunities to let Roberto
look down my blouse. Low-cut, it would fall away from my
breasts if I bent over even slightly. . .so I bent over slightly.
At first I feigned a little modesty by holding the front
when I bent over. Gradually, of course, I stopped doing
this. Roberto couldn't help but see most of my barely covered
breasts as we leaned over the table comparing notes on the
layout work in front of us. Glancing down, I could see that
the white lace highlighted the faint pattern of my yellow
bra, and that roundness of my breasts and hard shape of my
nipples were clearly outlined. My excitement about being
with Roberto was as great as I anticipated and I maneuvered
to give him the best view I could. . .and still do the work.
After a couple of hours, we had made good progress on the
work. As we worked we talked about other things, too. Roberto
was as charming and gentlemanly as I remembered. We talked
about our respective jobs, our backgrounds, our families.
. .Roberto even showed me pictures of his grandchildren.
. . .and as I became more obvious in my encouragement of his
looking down my blouse, he became less concerned about
being caught. That Roberto was not only tall, handsome, and immensely
sexy but also a real person with real interests and a real
family began to work on my feelings about he situation we
were in. After feeling a little intimidated about teasing
'sans Marc' with a man I was infatuated with, I started to
feel liberated, and safe, and, of course, powerful. If
I couldn't go solo with this wonderful man, it was never
going to happen. Not Just Another Phone Call
Just as I had decided that I needed to find a way to go further,the phone rang. "Hello, " I answered, sounding irritated,
I'm sure. "Hi, gorgeous, " Marc said. "How's it going there?"
"Well. . .just fine." I replied noncommittally.
"Stacy. . .now you just pretend at your end that this is abusiness call and I'll handle the substance of this conversation.
. .OK?" Marc was being creative again. I could sense from his tone
that he wanted to participate in this new way, that he had
some suggestions to share over the phone. "That would be just fine, " I replied, adopting a businesslike
tone for Roberto's benefit. "Have you been giving your friend a good look at your new
bra and panties, Stacy?" Marc began. "I've been working on that, " I replied. "I'll need a little
more time to complete that project." "I understand. . .you can't just rip your clothes off for
him, can you?" Marc asked. "Now that would be project I could really do well, " I teased
back. "Given the opportunity, I think you'd be very pleased
with my work." "I'll bet. Now, Stacy. I'd like you to walk over and sit on
the front edge of your desk and give Roberto a good look up
your skirt. Will you do that for me?" "Sure, that's very doable in that time frame." I said as
I did as Marc requested, crossing my legs, turning my body
in Roberto's direction. "Is Roberto watching your legs, Stacy? Is he angling for
a better view up your skirt?" "That seems to be the case, yes, " I answered, with increasing
difficulty now. "I could probably do something to improve
the prospects though." I turned my shoulders away from Roberto, reaching for an
scrap of paper behind me, making it possible for my skirt
to inch up to the top of my stockings, and making it possible
for Roberto to look at me without the risk of being caught.
"I suppose you just found a way to raise your skirt for him,
didn't you Stacy? Can you think of a way to give him a look
between your legs, to let him see your pretty new panties?"
Still facing away from Roberto in answered Marc, "I think
I can take care of that, " as I uncrossed my legs slowly,
leaning further away, stretching my body to reach a more
distant scrap of paper. "As a matter of fact, I think that
I may have taken care of that request already, " I continued.
Following Marc's "flashing" instructions was nothing
new. . .taking them over the phone, acting on them for my
"audience, " and maintaining the fiction of a routine
phone call was. I was starting to feel the rush of taking
a new chance, of trying a fresh risk, and, in this case, of
finally giving the darling, delicious Roberto a free,
uninterrupted, and definitely revealing look up my skirt.
"Stacy. . .have you unbuttoned your blouse yet?" Marc asked.
"Well, no, that really hasn't seemed possible under the
circumstances, " I replied. "You think your blouse is already revealing enough? I'm
sure your friend has enjoyed looking down the front and
must be able to see the lace of your bra pretty clearly through
the fabric. Is that enough, do you think?" Marc inquired.
"I'd like to explore this further, but haven't really found
a way to accomplish any more, if you understand what I mean, "
I answered, trying to let Marc know that whatever he had
in mind, I was ready to try. "Try this. As you listen, start to absent-mindedly toy
with the top button of your blouse. Maybe it will come undone
and maybe you won't notice, " he suggested. Uttering an occasional 'uh huh' to hold up my end of the conversation,
I did as Marc asked. In a minute, I was able to report, "Your
suggestion seemed to work. . .any other ideas?" I teased
in the most business-like tone I could manage. "Do you have any other buttons? If you do the same for one
more, your blouse will be open quite far, won't it? He'll
be able to see your breasts without straining at all, don't
you think?" was Marc's helpful suggestion. I took his suggestion,
as I could see Roberto, out of the corner of my eye, watching
me as carefully as he could. "That's probably enough for now, " Marc said. "But I'm
sure you'll come up with some other creative ideas before
the afternoon is over. I'll look forward to hearing about
them later." "That would be fine. I'll be able to give you a full report.
And I'm sure I can take this project further very soon, "
I added before I rung off. I slid from the desk, raising my skirt again, this time above
my stockings, showing a quick garter, and walked back to
the table where Roberto was sitting. My blouse fell open
easily fully revealing a wide expanse of skin across the
top of my breasts, the little clasp in the middle holding
my bra in front, and the lace edge across the top. I was sure
that with the next bend my barely covered breasts would
be completely on display. I approached Roberto directly, making it impossible for
him to miss my show. His eyes moved from following mine to
looking at my open blouse. And he looked, now, without hesitation
or apology. After a minute, he glanced back to my eyes.
"You are a very beautiful woman, " he said with absolute
sincerity. "Thank you. I'm glad you noticed, " I said trying to keep
the wink out of my voice. "I think maybe you have been trying to help me notice?" he
added, a tentative tone creeping into his confident voice.
Busted. But only if I wanted to "own up" to it. I wanted to.
. .to tell Roberto that I found him so attractive that I wanted
him to be as aroused by watching me as I was by just being with
him, that I was ready (at least theoretically) to strip
naked for his pleasure and mine. But I decided to prolong
the moment instead. . .the magical waiting for the other
garment to fall, for the next revelation to emerge, that
makes mine the sexiest spectator sport. Coffee. . .Tea. . .or. . .
"Maybe we should finish our project. . .before we talk aboutsuch things, " I scolded mildly. "Where were we?"
We were actually quite near the end. I sort of had to createitems for us to discuss and correct to add to our work time
together. And the work was harder now since neither of us
was concentrating on the brochure much. Roberto, obviously,
couldn't be expected to approve designs without looking
at them. . .and he was occupied inspecting my breasts as
much as he could and watching my skirt rise and fall each
time I sat or moved or shifted position. It became a game,
almost laughable but that we were both also amazingly.
. .uh. . .stimulated by our growing mutual interest. Finally, I could wait no longer and broke the tension.
"OK. . .looks as though we are as done as we going to be with
this. Now . . .what were you saying a few minutes ago about
'trying to help you notice?' What do you mean, Roberto?"
"I think. . .and forgive me for being so forward. . .but I
think that you want me to look down your blouse. . .and up
your skirt, maybe. I think you want me to be. . .interested.
. .in you." I could tell from his tone that he was curious, not judgmental,
about his observation. What I couldn't tell was whether
he was really interested. . .or, more specifically, attracted
to my efforts. "And if I do, what do you think about that?" I decided to try
the direct approach. "I think it would be incredibly sexy. . .I am very aroused
by your wanting to do this. . .if you do, I mean, " he answered.
"I hope you don't want me to make love to you though. . .I couldn't
do that. . .I am a. . ." "No, no. . .that's not what I had in mind. But, you are right.
. .I enjoy it when you look at me... look at me in that way."
We stood looking at each other, grinning at our mutual revelation.
"What do we do now?" Roberto added innocently.
I paused thinking a moment. "Coffee?" I asked.
Getting coffee for us gave me a chance to catch my breath- much needed now - and think of an answer to Roberto's question.
We sat on the couch near the door, opposite the conference
table. I set my coffee down, leaned back into the corner
of the couch and watched Roberto drink his coffee, waiting.
I crossed my long legs in front of Roberto and made no attempt
to prevent my skirt from riding to the top of my stockings.
I looked at my blouse to find that it draped open revealing
most of my bra. . .and most of my breasts. I kicked my shoes
off and looked at Roberto. "Roberto. . .would you like to rub my feet?" I ventured.
"With pleasure, Stacy, " he answered. He set his coffee
down, clearing his hands for work, and I lifted my feet to
his lap. I could tell that I was showing him most of my legs
as my skirt moved higher on my thighs. He began with my left foot, the one nearest his knees, allowing
me the modesty of keeping my knees together. As he rubbed
my foot, I relaxed into the couch and closed my eyes. I could
feel him lifting my foot slightly, knowing that this would
expose me further. I didn't care . . .I was lost in the warm
feel of his hands and, even though I couldn't see it, the
intensity of his attention to my body. My right, non-rubbed, foot rested in his crotch and I could
feel Roberto pull it into himself as he massaged and lifted
my left. This was getting close to the limit of what I was
willing to do, but I let him continue, trusting my instincts
about him, trusting that I could just let him, and myself,
drift a little further. He dropped my left foot into his lap and lifted my right.
Time for another choice - and I was letting my pleasure in
the moment make it for me. I dropped my left foot to the floor
and let my body slide down further into the folds of the couch.
The effect was dramatic. My skirt was above mid-thigh, my right knee was high in the
air, and my left was hanging off the edge of the couch - my
legs were spread for Roberto, for him to see just about everything
I had under my skirt. The right foot rub turned out to be very
short. "My God, " he said. "You are so beautiful and so. . .brave."
"What do you mean?" I mumbled.
"To let me. . .to make me. . .see you this way. . .it is so incredible.. .I love to look at you, Stacy. . .I have never met anyone
who could do this. . ." Roberto rambled for a moment. "And I have never shown myself in this way before, Roberto.
. .you are so strong and so safe and so gentle. . ." I rambled
a little too. "Would you consider unbuttoning your blouse the rest of
the way and opening it for me?" he asked, almost formally.
I hesitated for only second. The remaining buttons opened
easily and I draped my blouse open showing Roberto my breasts
covered now only in the thin, yellow fabric of my bra, my
nipples, dark and hard, drawing his attention. I closed
my eyes again, feeling free and powerful and unbelievably,
overwhelmingly warm. I let what seemed like minutes pass,
wanting him to drink the sight of me, exposed, wanting him
to enjoy his own arousal as I was enjoying mine. Without a word, even without a thought, I felt my hands move
to the clasp at the front of by bra. I unhooked it slowly,
not to prolong the suspense, but to allow myself to subtly,
gently touch my own nipples with the palms of my hands, to
bump my pleasure a step higher. I opened by bra, brushing
its lace over my nipples, and freed my breasts for Roberto's
eyes. "Your breasts are magnificent, " he observed. "I can't
believe that I am here doing this with you." "Tell me what you see, Roberto, " I found myself saying.
"I see a beautiful woman with a very sexy body and. . .a sexy
mind, " he said rather gallantly, I thought. That was, of course, very nice to hear. . .but it wasn't what
I wanted at that moment. "That's very nice, Roberto. . .but tell me what you see.
. .describe me . . .what are you looking at when you look at
me?" I asked, pushing this fabulous opportunity as far
as I could. Roberto paused, knowing what I wanted, but not knowing
quite how to proceed. "I see your long legs spread in front of me, " he started,
"and the tops of your stockings . . .and the garters on your
white thighs." He was catching on quickly. "I see the lace
at the edge of your panties and I see the faint pattern on
the yellow of your panties. . .and I see the mound of your
pubic hair beneath the fabric. I see your garters raising
the edge of your panties. . .and I see the outline of your
garter belt just below your waist." My eyes were stilled closed and I was picturing myself,
the me that Roberto was describing. The words alone could
have described a whore on display for her Marc. But from
Roberto, with his rich voice, his boyish delight, his unconditional
acceptance, they emerged lovely, musical, and erotic.
I knew at that moment that I had found my ideal audience.
"I see the smooth, tight skin of your body. . .your very beautiful,
firm breasts and your small, erect nipples pointing at
me, " he continued, "and your chest rising and falling
as you breathe and your long smooth neck . . .and your lovely
face, relaxed and excited too. . .and your open lips. God,
I think I'm in heaven. . ." I thought of just how wild Marc would become when I told him
of this moment and of the moments that led to it. Marc would
take over, replacing all this warmth with his own kind of
heat. . .and I would be more than ready for him to do that.
"I'm the one in heaven, Roberto, with your kindness and
your gentle words and your letting me do this with you, "
I responded. "My pleasure is only exceeded by my desire to hurry home
to my wife very soon, " he answered, laughing a little,
knowing we had reached the end of our afternoon together.
"I can understand that, " I smiled back, as I started to
rise. "May I help you?" he asked, ever the gentleman.
I allowed Roberto to lift my feet to the floor, to straightenmy skirt and finally, after I stood, to close my bra and button
my blouse. We exchanged few words since we didn't need to.
A few glances, a gentle touch or two, and a goodbye peck on
the cheek were all that were necessary. ******************************************************
All this filled my head and revived my spirits as I held Roberto's
soft gift in my hands. Marc had indeed been thrilled when
I described my afternoon with Roberto. . .and would again
when he saw this. Now Roberto Has Suggestions, Too. . .
I heard a noise outside my door and began to slip the pantiesinto my bag when Roberto walked through the door. He grinned
broadly when he saw his gift in my hands and crossed over
to me. I smiled and gave him a quick kiss. "I was hoping that you received my gift to you. . .I hope that
giving you this is all right. . ., " he said. "Of course, it's all right, Roberto, they are lovely, "
I said holding them up between us. The memories of last Saturday
were suddenly eclipsed by Roberto's presence and I slipped
easily into a mood of giddy infatuation. "I was hoping. . .no, that would not be possible. . .I need
to go. I just wanted to see that you got your gift, " he stammered.
"What would not be possible, Roberto?"
He took the panties from my hand. "I sort of thought that,maybe . . .you could try them on. . .that maybe you could model
them for me?. . ." I waited, watching him, amazed at the shyness of my dark
and handsome suitor. "I know, bad idea. . .I should know better. . .last week was
wonderful, but only. . ., " he stumbled on. "It's a charming idea, Roberto, but there are others still
in the building and I don't know. . ." I trailed off - Marc
was standing in the doorway. "Roberto, my husband, Marc. Marc, this is Roberto. . .the
consultant I told you about last week, " I said, launching
immediately into face saving formalities. Marc smiled broadly, crossed to Roberto and shook his hand.
"Stacy has told me so much about you, Roberto. I am very pleased
to meet you, " Marc said, glancing briefly in my direction,
looking for a cue. . .or a clue. "Roberto brought me a little gift, Marc, " I said, teasing
Roberto as gently as I could, "Show Marc the gift you brought
me, Roberto." He was trapped. With small laugh he raised the panties and
reluctantly held them for Marc to see. My knees were beginning
to weaken from erotic moments flashing through my head.
Last Saturday. Telling Marc about last Saturday. Opening
my intimate gift. Remembering last Saturday. "Modeling"
for Roberto. Marc interrupting my quiet moment with Roberto.
Roberto showing Marc the panties he had given me. Finally,
Marc broke my reverie. "Why don't you try them on for us, Stacy?" he asked. He exchanged
a conspiratorial glance with Roberto, almost as if they
had planned this whole scenario. I didn't care if they had.
. .I had them both waiting for my decision. Marc, always
thinking ahead, walked to my office door and turned the
lock. Roberto was stunned. I hadn't told him that Marc encouraged
my showing myself to other men, that Marc was the architect
of my hobby, that Marc was usually a participant. Roberto
looked to me to save him. "It's all right, Roberto. Marc likes to look at me. And he
likes you to look at me, " I assured him. "Well. . .let's see what these look like, OK?" Marc asked.
I stared briefly at Marc and said, "You'll probably want
to help, right?" "I sure will, " he responded predictably. "Roberto. .
.sit down and relax for a minute." Roberto sat on the couch, the new panties still in hand,
and Marc moved me to the center of the room. I decided to let
go. . .and let Marc handle this any way he wanted. I had what
I wanted. My ideal audience. . .my so helpful, so sexy husband.
. .a dozen warm remembrances swirling through my mind.
I was ready, no, eager for one more moment of this. Marc stooped behind me, not wanting to block Roberto's
view, and began to raise the hem of my dress. It was summer
so I wore no stockings or slip under the lightweight material.
Marc wanted to maximize my exposure, of course, so he gathered
the dress, front and back, as he pulled it to my waist, finally
uncovering my panties. "Stacy, can you hold this please?" he asked, drawing me
into my own exposure, forcing me to hold my dress so that
he and Roberto could enjoy my standing before them in just
my panties. This was one of Marc's favorite sights, watching
me holding a pose like this, extending the moments in which
I display myself, almost mechanically, for whomever is
watching. The first time he did this, the first time he made
me hold a pose like this, I was terrified. In the several
times since, I've found it increasingly pleasant . . .almost
liberating. . .and always arousing. Marc walked around me, just watching, obviously encouraging
Roberto to watch. He finally stooped to the floor again
and slipped my shoes from my feet and slowly ran his hands
up the front of my legs until he reached the waist at the front
my panties. He gripped the edge with one hand and pulled
them down my thighs, and then to the floor, with one quick
movement. I was naked from the waist down, my trimmed pubic hair providing
little cover from the prying eyes of Roberto and Marc. Both
were smiling, enjoying me. I was not smiling only because
the intensity of my exposure, of the feeling of shame and
pleasure mixed strong, of the anticipation for what I knew
Marc would suggest next. "Roberto. . .would you do the honors?" Marc gestured toward
me, letting Roberto know that he should slip the new panties
onto my naked body. Awkward for only a second, Roberto knelt in front of me,
his face inches from that place just below my belly, that
place that was now a riot of rising tension and release,
that place from which my greatest pleasure explodes. I
had to keep my composure, I told myself, for Roberto's sake.
I raised my right foot, guiding it into the panties that
Roberto held for me, opening my legs slightly, carefully.
Then, the left foot, letting Roberto get my pretty new panties
around my ankles. He hesitated there. He rose slowly, pulling the panties to my knees, over my
thighs and finally coming to rest where they belonged,
covering my nakedness. Standing in front of me now, he let
his hands rest on my hips, gently fingering the lace edge
of my panties and looking into my eyes for an indication,
for some help, for guidance. I was completely enthralled with Roberto, with Marc, with
the situation they had created for me. I wanted to give Roberto
something special of myself, something from the moment,
that he and I could enjoy and remember. And that Marc could
add to his memory of erotic times with me. I reached for Roberto's hands and moved them to my ass, letting
him feel the smoothness of my panties and the firmness of
my skin. He caressed me gently there and my arms went around
his neck and my mouth was on his and my body was crushed against
him, all in a second, and we were locked in a passionate,
delicious, astounding embrace. His tongue explored my
mouth, his hands found all the curves of my ass and my body
molded against his as naturally and as fully as one can without.
. .well . .without actually fabricating. When I finally let his lips separate from mine, our eyes
were locked and his left hand had moved to the front of my
left hip. He looked at me soberly and said, very quietly,
"May I touch you?" Since our bodies were pressed together and his right hand
still held my ass, I knew his request could only mean one
thing. I placed my hand on his, guided it to the lace panel at the
front of my panties, turned my body slightly to the right,
and moved his hand down, moved it between my legs, pressed
it against myself, as I kissed him again, this time deeper
and hotter than before. His touch there was gentle, too
gentle maybe, since I found myself pressing his hand more
firmly against me, struggling to avoid the temptation
to rub myself against him. My body, sensitive everywhere
now, was covered with waves of pleasure, was filled with
a burst of energy that was something less than an orgasm
but much more than a simple rush of desire. I know that Roberto
could feel the shudder of release just below the surface
of our embrace, in the urgency of my tongue in his mouth,
in the pressure of my hand on his hand between my legs. He stepped back after a minute, my hand still holding his
against me, gently took that hand in his and kissed it. I
pulled his to my cheek and could feel on it the warmth of my
own body, the hot, moist presence of my own desire. My dress returned to its home position. Roberto smiled
one last time, said a friendly goodbye to Marc, and left
quietly. And, thank God, within a minute, I was on the couch again,
my panties back at my ankles, my legs open, with Marc's appreciative
tongue ministering to my over-ready body, helping it create
the release, the explosion that it deserved.

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