It is time for the coup de grace, which I know is ten times more effective if you have the patience to wait for the right moment, and like a Californian surfer take the monster breaker as it crests and ride it to crash upon the shore in a welter of foam and spray. At first, I run my palms over the outside of your trouser legs, and then across the smooth rise of your pelvis and up and down your inner thighs, working my way ever closer to the triangle where they meet – the fount of desire, the place where X marks the treasure trove of Gloria’s golden glory. XXX Hot yes, I think … Barely discomposed by your efforts, you rise smoothly to your feet, regarding my breathless and befuddled condition with a mixture of amusement and accomplishment.




















