I went into the kitchen and began to pack thebasket as instructed. I always hated this chore. My governess knew howmuch being in public made me unco...fortable, and she always ensured thatthere were little rituals around each of those public excursions whichseemed to have the only purpose of prolonging the agony. Preparing thepicnic basket was one of those rituals. It was a stereotypical picnicbasket, with a blue gingham liner and large bow on the handle. It camealong with a matching quilt. The transition had gone so rapidly that she was nearly caught off guard. But really, she'd let down her guard and allowed things to go forward. He knew his stuff as he applied the gentle caresses. It had been too long in between climaxes, not to hold out anymore. She offered an orgasm as her acknowledgment that this was now mutual lust. He had played her like it was making music, an instrument plucked and strummed, and not to mention thumbed. Woman as guitar, play me, if I'm in tune,. More

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