Catherine was composed, quite lovely, elegantly dressed, and overwhelmingly desirable. I was one of the chosen three, along with the man who was organ...sing the evening. The Arranger. I went up to Room 319 at the appointed time, and joined the other three men in suits, and took a glass of the offered champagne. Catherine came out from the bedroom alcove, dressed in an outfit that screamed lust, celebration, and unfettered womanhood. She wore six inch blood red high heels, the black tight bodice,. “Drink up, darling,” she chided me, and as I sipped my champagne, she got my belt open and then opened the buttons on my fly slowly, taking her time as she slowly unbuttoned them - very slowly! She’d undo one button, and then rub me through my pants, and then do another, dragging it out. The only reason my cock didn’t spring out and give her a concussion was that it was trapped by my briefs.Marilyn was really dragging the torment out! She stopped with my pants and undid my shoes and pulled them. She looked back over her shoulders and smiled at him. He smiled back and watched. He knew she was getting horny, she always did when they were out here in the middle of nowhere. She loved to be naked under in the sunlight but it was hard to do legally in town. So they came here. Out on a back tributary stream with no one around she was free to do as she liked and Chris got to watch her or join her . . .depending on her mood. First she reached back and untied her bikini top and let the straps. It drove me nuts. And she knew damn well she was doing it too.After the first encounter, I tried to avoid her. It simply wasn't possible. And within a couple of days, it happened again. Just like before, we ended up behind my garage, me praying to God nobody saw us kissing, pushed up against the back of the garage, neighbors out of sight, my dick against her shorts, feeling my bulge, going crazy, and my knees like jelly.Except that time it went well beyond what I initially thought was nothing.
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