She don’t respond or even move. The voice comes again closer this time. So I guess your a hard napper huh? She still remains motionless. The cushion... push down again. Farther this time she thinks he maybe standing over her now. Straddling her. She feels touching on her face again. But a softer touch. What maybe the softess skin she ever felt. The smell of Irish spring is nearly overwhelming now.She feels the soft finger tip slowly slide up her chin and trace he lips around twice before sliding. I felt the elastic band of my boxers lift. I commanded myself not to move.Her hand was now on the skin of my cock. She gripped it again and fondled it. She clenched her fingers around the base and squeezed hard. Too hard.I thought she’d make my cock pop like a twisting balloon the way she held it.I shifted a little. She paused. She lifted her head from my chest. I breathed louder. Her sweet hand returned to my grateful cock. She pulled the band of the boxers down as far as she could without. You'd think she was going to the opera instead of being a greeter for a sex party. She graciously took the invitation that had been mailed to us and directed us to the men's and women's UN-dressing rooms (she emphasized the "un" with a dazzling smile). I gave my wife a quick kiss and said, "See you later," then went down the hall to the left as she went to the right.At the end of the hall was a room, much like a gym locker room, but with cushions and leather upholstery on the benches, no locks. "Isthat your cock?" asked Angel."Uh, yeah, I'm rather attached to it. Sorry, I didn't mean to flashyou or anything," I replied.Angel pulled into an empty parking lot, stopped behind some bushes,and got out of the cab. "Let me see that thing," she insisted throughthe window. I opened the taxi door and unbuttoned my trench coat.The cock extended from my belly, ran across the back seat, then hungover the edge. Just for fun, I raised it and waved it around a fewtimes." Holy shit, it's alive!" Angel.
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