Her thighs brushed together wantonly. Greyish milky thighs, also with a tease of blue. My mouth watered.My tongue wanted out for a taste of that flesh... Her flesh.Further up, my exploring eyes traveled. To a form fitting mini-skirt of dark browns, greens, and blues. That was clearly framing a bulge I just knew was as hard as mine, and a softness, wet and warm, that I could sense in my being from the bottom of the stairs. Her scent could find me a mile away or in the deepest of sleep and dream.A. These were my bedtime feasting, heavy in sexual innuendo and full of beautiful curvaceous Italian women, heavy breasted and titillating, heavy breathing and full of dirty old men, firing a girls imagination, and the naughty ending under the bedclothes, something my roommates never failed to comment about. Looking back I guess these and others like the 'Story of O', and the 'Decameron' brought me into my oestrous cycle, earlier than considered normal, something the experts recognize with all. More

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