With him nibbling on my ears and kissing my neck, I unbottoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. His cock didn't wait for me; it was so hard that it...had been waiting to pop out of his pants. With my chin on his shoulder, gazing at the ceiling, I wrapped my hands around it, or tried to. My index finger and thumb couldn't touch while wrapped around it. It was thick, throbbing, swollen, and beginning to leak. I took my hands off it for a minute to take his shirt off. Once off, I kissed him once. The Chinese meal was like no other. The small servings, the ability to eat what she wanted – the meal was just incredible. Was Peter a dancer? How could Peter be so fluent in Chinese? Why was he so welcome? Was he Christian or…? He seemed to worship at that shrine and he knew what to do. Now what was going to happen? She was off to the Trots so what strange plans had he in mind now? Bob had called Jennifer the Ice Maiden. She was certainly cool. Not once during the meal was she more than. More

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