When she rose I pulled her into my arms and renewed my kisses. She pressed herself against me and moved to put my thigh between hers.“I’m still a ...ittle stiff from the match, Michael.”She rubbed on me as she spoke and I didn’t need a decoder ring to understand this invitation. We lay down on the spikey grass that was surprisingly comfortable in the evening warmth and my hands found the knots in her back as she alternately purred and groaned and sighed when I worked my way down over her firm. I am comfortable in being a woman, in expressing my feminine charms. I neither want to hide them, or to deny them. I slow my dressing down to a liquid, passionate pace. I want to enjoy every minute of dressing. Every strap, every elastic, each satin and lace is a part of my rising passion. I absorb each feminine feeling as I bring delicate colors and materials to my skin and my arousal builds. I am a woman that is defined by what she wears. I can imagine how hot I will get when several nights. More

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