He lifts up my camisole, white with a butterfly embroidery like my panties. His hands are warm and firmly shape my breasts, kneading, plumping, and ca...essing them. He teases my nipples into tiny brown buds, and then, he curls his hands under my ribs and arches my back. I twine my fingers in his silky blond hair, spread my legs and hug his hips with my knees so I can feel his erection rubbing my crotch. I will miss this. I wish I could take it with me. My breath is short and quick now because he. But life has a way of throwing you curves. trying toanticipate them is useless. the best thing to do is try to roll with thepunches. i'll admit there was some hesitation to put this thing on. futasuits were new tech. stuff that you heard rumors about online, on placeslike 'fictionmania,' but i thought there was no way they could reallyexist. but here i was, about to not just come in contact with it, but tobe swallowed whole by one.as i slipped the futa suit on, i started to forget myself.. More

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