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He assured me that they could fit me in for a mani pedi. I told John that I had hoped that he could give me mine so that we could visit. I leaned forward, giving John a flash of my breasts. He wasn’t licensed, he said, but I told him that I did not care, and that rules were made to be broken. My nipples were poking out the silk of my camisole; John stuttered that if I could wait a few minutes, he would make an exception for me. “You are such a slut,” I thought to myself as I took a seat across. Christie was much more annoyed with me than hurt, and I tried my best to regain my composure. "I'm sorry, Christie, really. I shouldn't be laughing. May I ask who the lucky guy is?"The frown she wore slowly slipped away and then she shook her head. "No, I'm not ready to say, yet. The thing is, I think he wants to have sex with me, I'm just not sure I'm ready for that. I mean, I want to, sure, but I haven't even really been held by a guy yet."The previous air of humor evaporated as the. I began to spread my fingers till they had encompassed her chest, touching each other, like two spiders getting ready to wrap round their prey. Still she showed no sign of waking, and I gathered the courage, aided by a nose that threatened to take the road of high morality should I waste too much time. Ensuring that my palms were at the base of her tits, I began to squeeze. The tits had felt firm under my grasp, like heavy rubbery globes that were just meant to be mauled. My manhood pushing. For the first time in ages, I stared at her with lust. I listened attentively for some time, then made a grab for her.“Peter, don’t, please! That’s all you ever think about! I don’t want my new clothes and hairdo messed up.” She shook me off and heading upstairs, shouted back, “and you can sleep in the spare room tonight!”This had not gone well, to say the least. I made up the bed in the spare room, and to my shame, for the first time in twenty years, masturbated while fantasizing about my.
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