A low moaning, like the wind singing through the telephone wires on a deadly quiet winter evening precursing the coming of a heavy winter storm, start... to escape from my lips. My eerie moan is lost in the sound of spray beating on my back before it slides over my hips and down my legs to disappear into the swirling drain. The sharp, pungent smell of my arousal mingles with the steam to add a special perfume to the heavy air. I gasp for breath as the steam sears my lungs but nothing can tear me. I made her lie on the bed and planned my best move on her to get her charged up.All my Ex-girlfriends have told me I have magic in my fingers when I get to explore a female body. I have always been interested in the techniques and art of massaging. I call it an art because nothing can be more pleasurable then a massage done well.I made her lie on her back and started massaging her feet. I wanted her to be comfortable and submit herself to me. Touching a man or a woman on the right spots can. More

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