The Model Wife

...as he spoke, the tutor had moved in close against her. She could not help herself, responded by pushing her bottom against him, his hardness was apparent. He pushed his hands under her arms to cup her breasts, still hidden under the layers of blouse and bra. Probing with his fingers, a little roughly, she knew he was searching for her nipples. They were not difficult to find, her arousal saw to that. He flicked the protruding bumps with his thumbs and she felt them reacting to his touch, stiffening further. In response, she pressed her herself against him even harder, rolling her thighs slightly, not too obviously. She was breathing heavily, failed to stifle a moan when he kissed and nibbled at her neck. He was feeling for the buttons of her blouse, began to fumble the top one open. “No, please, no…” she whispered, but did not try to stop him. Instead, she reached around behind her, between their bodies, pushed her fingers under the belt of his pants. Finding his hard cock through the folds of his cotton boxer shorts, she closed her fingers around it. The action contradicted the message of her words. Encouraged, he continued down, button by button, dragging her blouse open and finally pulling it out from her skirt. She felt his hands grip firmly on her hips, then his fingers were gently walking up to the tightly held soft swell of her belly. Flinching under his touch, she giggled girlishly, “You’re tickling!” ...



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