“Who’s a pretty Valentines boy then?” Sara teased. “Does it turn you on wearing my slutty red panties?”As if to check, she trailed her red fingernails over the cheap satin and down the length of my straining cock. She didn’t need any more confirmation. Sara plucked the girly waistband away from my shiny swollen cock-head, now leaking a single drop of pre-cum. Then she reached her long fingers down between my legs like she would caress another girl over her panties.“Who’s a slutty tart gagging for it then?”“I am. Please make me come…” I played along.“I’m just a tease,” she smirked, “it’s up to you if you want to come.”I groaned, “Oh please do it me, I’m desperate for it!”“Would this help?” she inquired, trailing one hand over my swollen balls, and the other slipping under the gaping gusset and pressing against my bum hole. I flinched. This might be crossing the line.“Does it help if you’re wet?” she inquired innocently.“It might,” I replied nervously, “I’ve never been wet before…”“You. Stray strands of her hair tickled my cheek. My fingertips smoothed it over her temple. There were small flecks of something in her hair, tiny clumps and knots. I began to comb it with my fingertips, straightening and untangling, and remembering.She wears her hair short now, tinted silver gray. When I first noticed her, in the dorm cafeteria, it was chestnut brown, parted in the center with loose braids over her shoulders. She wore it that way only the one day, but that is my first memory of her. I loved her with long straight hair. We would spend hours then with her lying on me, just kissing. Her hair would fall around us in a warm curtain, isolating us, focusing our attention into each other's eyes. The gray hairs were appearing, even then. When she turned thirty, defying fashion, she took it all the way gray, and short.I unbuttoned her sleep shirt and exposed her free breast. The pudgy nipple was still a bud, just beginning to stretch as I breathed on it. Her nipples are a rare.
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