When I tilted my head downwards under me, I could see her eyes were still closed but she was biting her lower lip. As the mutual thrusting became continuous faster and harder, her little miniature-bikini-model body began to convulse her eyes opened and almost popped out of their sockets as she let out one long and loud moanscream, then closed again as her body when back to limp putty. I picked her up, and stood up, my cock still well deep inside her, her tiny legs around my waist, one hand holding her sexy little teenage butt covering almost all of it, the other arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes were closed again, I put my mouth on hers and gave her a thorough passionate French kiss that met no objection or barrier, and while still inside her both with my tongue and my cock I walked her out of the bath and to the living room, I set down on the sofa, the little girl still on top of me kissing. I didn’t do anything from this point on, she just kept, kissing me and bouncing. I hate the feather in my hair. But you are close behind me as you lean over my shoulder with the bottle of wine that you must be able to feel it. I feel a faint flutter in my stomach and then as your breath falls warm and soft upon the back of my neck I feel a heat spread through my body. I hope it doesn’t reach my face. I’m fake laughing at something my boss has just said. That’s him, Jeff, across the table with his latest — typical 45+ divorcee — her bust falling out of her costume like some tart, some whore. Well I guess that is probably the idea given the theme of the evening. Moulin Rouge. I bet they have the can-can later and she’ll get up and do the whole ‘lift the skirt over your head’ thing. Oh another joke. Yes, don’t look concerned Jeff — I’m fake laughing again ‘Ha ha’. Another sip of wine. Another sip closer to the bottom of the glass and then you’ll have to come back over and replenish me. Hmmmm replenish me. I look over and catch your eye casually. You look at me.
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