He admired her long smooth legs, with only her white lace panties left on her otherwise naked body. He leaned forward between her legs to press his lips to her luscious thighs. He smelled her female smell, the smell of her arousal. He kissed her between her legs, to the triangle that was already wet with her excitement. She shuddered, bracing herself on his shoulders. He ran his hands up to her buttocks, and hooked his thumbs under her panties. He inched them down, kissing the skin as he bared it. He let it slip to her ankles, and tossed them away. She was naked, her body gorgeous, her knees weak, and most importantly, here vagina very, very wet. He began to touch her gently, brushing her erect clitoris with his finger. He leaned forward, and breathed his hot breath on her hardness. He supported her as her knees gave out, pulling her up and over to the window. He threw it open, allowing the noise of the city traffic to fill the room. She placed her hands on the windowsill, looking. It seemed to work.Halfway through the evening, and thoughts of a spectacular orgasm were fading fast. My ambition of avoiding getting squiffy was also dead and buried; I was now on my fourth glass of Merlot. Simon offered up the bottle to top me up. It was now or never. I declined the wine saying that Harry wouldn’t let me have any more after what happened with his boss in the kitchen. This got his attention; he wanted to know what happened.Without realising he was helping my cause, Harry chipped in and said that we had all had too much wine and things just got a little out of hand. This was my chance, I said with the voice of innocence, “A little out of hand? Your boss made love to me while you held my hands.” That was it, I’d said it; Simon wouldn’t let this drop now. The stage was set, no turning back. Harry tried to explain the circumstances; he wasn’t doing a very good job. He was desperately trying to downplay the events.Simon had so many questions. Nothing Harry said made it.
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