By the Reins
She sat on the leather couch perpendicular to mine. Her fidgeting fingers, grazed along the accentuated small ridges of wrinkles. I stared at her and wondered, ‘what you are expecting?’ Her outfit: Mere black leggings and a tank top variation of sorts that brazenly drew attention to a line of cleavage, where I struggled not leer. It could have been my imagination, but she seemed to have noticed as she looked down play with the front. Drawing it down and then press your breasts together from the...