He pulled away just long enough to discard the guitar. He kissed me again and traced my curves with his fingertips, stopping at the hem of my sweater;...then he slid his hands underneath. I pulled away and looked him in the eyes as I pulled the sweater over my head and dropped it on his bedroom floor. He looked at me, his “Blanca”: fair skin flushed pink from blushing beneath his gaze, black lace bra, cupping full D breasts. His eyes traveled across my smooth white stomach to my black fitted. Must be those statues and those pictures, she thought.She had on a short mini skirt that she had never worn out in public before that morning. She had only used it to tease Will. Yet this morning she picked it to wear. Her panties were a flimsy pair that Will had bought her yesterday to look "nasty" in before he eagerly took them off of her. Her top consisted of form fitting sweater and no bra. Luckily it was a warm, Indian summer day.She had spent some time that morning thinking about all the. More

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