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Instead I begin to maul your breasts, fingers gripping squeezing, mashing them together, digging in to the point of almost being painful, but just barley, your hips bucking convulsively into my waiting hardness, you can feel your soaked panties beginning to rub and catch on your clit an wedge into your wet lips,, I pull my hands from under your shirt and reach in through the neck, to finally, gently, pinch your nipples, and pull your breasts out of the top of your shirt, the weight of them hanging from my fingertips. I tug, letting them bounce suspended in the cold air, resting your head on the wall I feel your hands begin to explore my under my shirt, your fingers running across my tightly clenched stomach, feeling the muscle on my hips, playing with the buttons of my pants. Dropping your lovely tits to rest out of your shirt against the cold surface of the wall, you pleasurably shiver catching and gyrating my cock as its trapped between your thighs. as your. Peppermint fucking tea! What the fuck... Who the fuck are you? Where am I? And what the fuck has happened to my clothes, you dirty old bastard?"I was taken aback, my friend, taken aback to an extent that I could not even summon a simple silence charm, nor yet a Spell of Remembering, so I had to explain. Verbally. Truly, these are degenerate times, when one such as I must explain to a mere chit of a girl."You were being attacked," I said. "I - err - saw off your attackers, but you had fainted, so I brought you back here, prepared you a healing draft, which you..."I looked at my favoured chalice, now lying smashed on the floor, its former contents making a bit of a mess on the bare lino. She looked at me with a certain comprehension in her eyes."Cor, yeah," she said, "It was those Bishopston wankers, in the stairwell - and you beat them off with your walking stick! Fuck, but that was pretty fucking good, for an old guy like you. Sorry I broke your mug, by the way."I sighed, wondering.
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