His hand had gently embraced my hip. I could feel the micro vibrations of his fingers. I started moving my body, my ass scrapped over the bulge of hi... jeans. This was just the sign he had been waiting for. His hands swept down my body, clutching my legs, and then ran over my thighs from behind. My flowery silk skirt made his touch even more arousing. With him behind me I slid my hands over his hips and grasped his thighs. They were strong and firm. As I clutched them hard, let go, and clutched. Come on, you queer boy. Get me good and hard."Getting him hard turned out to be something of a challenge. No matter what I tried, no matter the technique, his cock stayed soft. Every now and then, it would start thickening and showing some encouragement, and then wilt again."Come on, little boy. Little faggot suck-boy. Get me hard."I lifted my mouth of his cock. "Calling me names doesn't do anything for me," I said."For either of us," my wife warned."Never mind," he said, rolling on to the bed. More

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