” “I don’t want you trying to scalp that,” I said sternly as I reached for the ticket. She swatted my hand and gave me a silent “no-...o-no” sign with a wagging finger and a sly grin. She slid the other tickets across the desk and turned back to her computer screen – barely concealing a giggle. I picked up the tickets and gave myself a private “Yes!” – these other tickets were never going to see the light of day again. “OK, OK, see if I buy you a hot dog.” I walked away finishing. It must have been nearly midnight by the time we finished. It’s only the knowledge that there’s no such thing as a Sunday morning lie-in at La Chatte Heureuse which prompted us to end our game when we did.In fact, Sunday is very much like every other day of the week at La Chatte Heureuse. For those who feel some form of religious devotion is appropriate, then there’s a room at the back of the entertainment building which is open every day and which serves as a chapel, mosque or temple depending. Then there was one, it stopped me. I remember the beginning so well: As I lie with you I go to glory I go to glory When I lie with you And the white owl One ear cocked to the ceiling One liquid eye floating in the goblet Upward. I remember I shivered. I could feel the poet’s arousal, imagine her (I knew it had to be ‘her’ even before I looked at the signature) opening her legs, waiting for the thrust (or better still, the gentle insertion and pressure), tensing, relaxing, waiting for the rush. Coming into senses, I apologized to her started to walk away. She came to me running and placed her lips in mine.We kissed desperately. Our tongues were playing. My lips were sucking her lower lip. Her lips are so sweet. While kissing, I started to move my hands on to her hip. Slowly I placed them on the back and I started to explore her body. We were lost into space.Our Saliva got exchanged and my hands went on to her ass. I slowly pressed them. She was wearing a track and a t-shirt. As our.
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