As I walked around, I stopped for a few minutes at the windows facing the woods behind my house. This was a terrible mistake, I thought. How could I have let this hippy play with my penis and make me ejaculate? There was nothing I could do to erase that but the guilt was overwhelming.After a few more pacing circles downstairs, I went up and looked out at the house next door. I couldn’t see Jasmine but there were some guys in the backyard sitting around the BBQ pit and smoking. Was that marijuana? Once again, I asked myself, what had I gotten myself into?Those years ago, after my aborted sex experience, I had tried to masturbate but the guilt almost always got me before I could climax. Except for one time. I had gone to an adult bookstore when I was in the city for a convention and bought a very explicit magazine. I hid it in my jacket and sneaked back into my hotel room where I put it in my suitcase thinking I would take it home with me.That night when our meetings were over a few of. He stares into my eyes then takes in my whole appearance. My auburn hair is tousled from sleep but still seductive and sexy. My dark eyelashes sweep downward in feigned shyness. Lips full, wet and pouting smirk at him, taunting him constantly. The zipper on my jacket shows just the slightest swell of my breasts underneath. He knew Id have on a bra merely because he told me too. Tight black leggings run down my hips and legs to tiny ballet slippers. I was there finally, within his reach, at his command. God I intoxicated him, that power thrilled me. I make eye contact again and lick my lips. He needs to devour me right then but only pulls me gently closer. Breath we both think but both have our breath held. He pushes his nose right underneath my ear and breathes in the scent of me. I always smell sensual and spicy to him, but what he breathes in now is more heat than scent. I tremble and my stomach clutches, eager but tense. His nearness brings out a weakness in me, a willingness I am.
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