”“I’m no saint, Angela.”“You’re closer to a saint than anyone of our generation I know. That’s good enough for me.”She hugged me fierc...ly.“I don’t think you know that much about me. We could remedy that. How about a date for this evening after I’ve been to Monica’s? The cinema? A meal out?”“Neither, John. I want to talk to you. How about a meal here?”“Agreed. What time?”“Seven thirty or eight? Is that enough time for you to talk to Monica and Simon?”“Probably, Angela. I don’t think it should. “Do you like that?” he whispered. “Where would you like my hand to go?” “I don’t know,” I replied nervously. “Where do you want to put it?” “Here,” he replied, sliding his hand into my lacy panties. He ran a finger up and down my lips, feeling my wetness. “That feels so good. I love shaved.” I parted my thighs, allowing his hand to move between my legs more easily. I was lying on my back with my thighs apart, and he was kneeling beside me, his mouth back on my nipples with his hand inside my. More

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