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. . aftershave? Jonathan didn't wear aftershave or cologne, ever! A little feeling of panic overtook her, she searched for her word. It was a finality, that word, and she had given herself up, was washed in whatever feelings were coming over her and hell, none of this was her doing. If he was standing by the door watching she'd give him a show! Fingers had picked up her wetness and was working from her outer lips in toward her clitoris, it really did feel like him, she used the anxiety and the unnerving sensation to push herself over the top to her first orgasm. They had agreed, that whatever the situation, if she was accepting of it and not stopping it, then she would draw every ounce of pleasure from it. No holding back, no enforced delay. She lost herself in orgasms and feelings and intensity. She was brought from her reverie by an unzipping by her head. Her head was gently turned as a cock, insistently pushed itself against her lips. She licked and sucked as she knew how, missed. We walk down the steep ramp, and I lead you over to a small yacht docked peacefully, bobbing slightly in the water. I climb on board, and open up the hatch, urging you silently to follow me into the boat, below decks. You look around, taking it in – a small couch and table, a tiny galley in the corner. And through a doorway, you spy a bed, taking up the entire bow. We’re not sailing anywhere, but we are alone, the world on the boat is ours. You smile and throw your arms around me, and we start to kiss. The passion quickly rising as our lips meet, our tongues dancing rapidly back and forth. My strong arms around you, my hands start to caress your back, and down to your ass. You are holding me close, pressing your chest against mine, our breath rising and falling together. You are wearing a dress, with a low scoop in the front that showcases your beautiful breasts. I reach behind you and slowly unzip your dress, from your neck slowly down to the top of your ass. My fingers slowly.
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