She was standing at the fountain we’d planned on meeting at, looking at her phone. Checking the time.Molly was beautiful. She was about 5’2” with dark curly hair that came down just past her shoulders. She wasn’t skinny, but I liked that. I didn’t like the girls who were so skinny you could see their ribs. As I said, she wasn’t skinny, but in no way overweight. She was perfect. Her big green eyes lit up as I approached her.“Jon!” She exclaimed, joy in her voice. As we walked and talked, she described the same feelings I had had on the plane. She told me how I had definitely not disappointed her in the looks department.It wasn’t long before we ended up making out in her car, parked in front of a hotel. She lived with her parents and had told them she was with a friend tonight. When we finally managed to get the door open (It is really hard to do when your tongue is inside someone else’s throat), we crashed onto the bed. After a moment or two, she stood up and closed the door. She. In her eyes was no amusement, no cool toying appraisal, only a dark deep hunger. He reached out, into the neck of her dress, his fingers moving across her left breast, feeling soft warmth. He reached up to pull her dress open further and he felt her tremble under his touch. Her breasts came out of the dress, pear-shaped, pink tips standing out sharply, anticipatory. Her arms encircled his neck, pulling him forward, his face into her breasts. His mouth found the erect pink-brown tips, drew on them. Oh, God, oh, oh, please, please,’ he heard her murmur, ignited by the urgency and whispered fierceness. His mouth stayed on her breasts, moving from one to the other, pulling on them, drawing their creamy softness up. She writhed under him, the dress disappearing. Her hands pulled at his trousers, pushing them to the floor. She brushed all the items off the desk with an urgent sweep of her arm and leaned back on his desk, pulling him on top of her, rubbing her soft belly against him,.
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