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"It's cold!" I said, irritated. "Do you have anything to dry me off?" "My shirt..." "Just dry me off, OK honey?" I knew this would break him. There was no way he could keep his head on straight if he touched me. He was standing just behind my left shoulder. He took his galleries mature free shirt and lightly dabbed at my free mature post chin, at my throat. He was trembling as he slid the shirt down my cleavage. The soft cotton fabric of the shirt brushed my nipples and the friction was so delicious that I arched my back. He moved his hand down, down, down, to older mature sexgalleries my stomach. I was panting. I spread my legs wider. "Oh, God..." Adam free mature post whimpered. He dropped the shirt. He moved it close behind me and cupped my breasts in his hands. I could feel his warm, humid breath on my back. "Oh, God!" His voice was a strangled whisper. He was mature nude woman free outside himself, consumed with lust, his mind overcome by the needs of his body. I said nothing. He free mature post cupped my breasts, feeling their weight. He leaned down, the bare skin of his chest touching my bare back. His lips brushed my neck, and then he softly kissed my shoulders. mature chics He kissed his way across my back, and then he buried his face in my hair, and I felt him take long, deep breath through his nose, inhaling my scent. I felt drops raining on my shoulder. He was crying. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I couldn't help myself." He nude old women his hands and stepped back. "Adam," I said sternly. "Yes?" His voice was a whisper of despair. "Stand right there," I ordered, motioning with my head right in front of me. He obeyed, his eyes on the dirt. His eyes were red with tears. "Adam." "Yes." "Put your hands on my breasts again." His head jerked up. "What?" "Do it!" He did, gingerly reaching out to touch me. "Touch the rings you were so curious about." "Mrs. Torsten, I can't. I'm so sorry I did that, it was so wrong..." "Adam." My voice brooked no argument. "Use your fingers. I want you to. Touch me with your fingers." He did, gently at first, his fingertips lightly brushing my nipples. I writhed under his touch, a cord seemingly going straight from my tits to my pussy. I rubbed my legs together, anything to get some friction down there. Adam wasn't crying anymore, he was thunderstruck at what he was doing. I stared at him, my eyes narrow and burning with lust. I bit my lip and moaned. "Do you know what you're doing to me?" I whispered. "I dream about you," Adam said. "I dream about you, about how beautiful you are. About what I'd like to...do with you." "That makes me feel good, honey, that you think I'm pretty."

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