The shock of the brief touch sends a wave of desire through me. I grind my body against his and he laughs, laughs knowing the power he holds over me. ...aughs knowing I’m helpless to stop him. He traces the lines of my face with his finger, traces the path of his fingers with his kiss. My breath comes in gasps, I whisper his name. Putting his hands firm on my back, he smiles. His hands, moving leisurely, down, up, around. His hands, how many times have I begged to have those hands on me, I want. When his parents were in town, I was always included in everything they did. Don had played every sport in high school and had stayed in top form. He was 38, but was in better shape than most guys my age. He was about 5’9” and had a rock solid build. From his fingers, across his large hands, over his forearms and biceps, to his broad shoulders was covered in dark, coarse hair. And it didn’t stop there. From his shoulders down his back and across his chest and stomach to his thick meaty. More

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