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For a snowy day . . .


Texsox

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From a friend of mine . . .

 

He grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into a

room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone.

 

He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring

voice close to my ear. "Just ...relax." Without warning, he reached down and

I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and

moving upward along my calves slowly but steadily.

 

My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I

didn't care. His touch was so experienced, so sure. When his hands moved

up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes.

 

My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my

ribcage...

 

And then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled

sharply. Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands

to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties.

 

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant.

This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge.

 

A man not used to taking "No" for an answer. A man who would tell me what

he wanted.

 

A man who would look into my soul and say ... "Okay ma'am, you can board

your flight now."

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