I don’t want to sneak around and just fuck you. I want to spend time with you.”“You’re making me blush,” she said.“That makes me smile,�... I answered. “And turns me on a little bit.”“What are you going to do about that?” she asked.“What do you want me to do?” “Will you get yourself off thinking of me?” she asked.“I already do every day.”“Fuck. I’m surprised how wet that makes me. Every day? Really?”“Yes. Sometimes more than that,” I admitted. “How about you?”“Not every day,” she said. “But. He helped her over to a bale of straw and sat her down. ‘Let me take a look at it.’ he murmured. ‘it might be broken.’ He knelt down on the floor of the stall and gently removed her flip flop. His fingers, maundered ever so slowly over her ankle. Massaging her foot with gentle, caresses, her flesh, smooth and soft beneath his fingers, ‘Does that feel better? I don’t think it’s broken.’ he murmured still kneading the pliant, flesh. She winced as he probed and prodded her ankle the pain fading as. More

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