He sits beside me, and our bare thighs touch briefly. I offer him another towel.'You can use this if you like.'He takes it, and as he rubs his body I ...tudy him closely. He's maybe forty, forty-five, with broad, muscular shoulders and short brown hair. My eyes drop to his slightly drooping cock, rising from a bush of wet curly hair that extends up over his belly to spread across his chest, and my mouth is suddenly dry.'How old are you?' he asks.'Fifteen.'He touches my cheek, stroking it. ” “It’s wrong, it’s evil!” “Forget all that. Think about how it feels.” His voice dropped to that persuasive purr she remembered so well, the one that haunted her thoughts. “Think about how it felt to have me down there, my tongue on you. Remember that? I do … your sweet taste, the clear honey of your excitement … oh, yes, I remember.” “Stop it,” she moaned, his words bringing an unwilling resurgence of arousal. “The way you slowed down,” he continued. “So as not to let it be over with? You. More

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