. and wanting. I gasp and let out a sharp cry as I feel the first touch of something, more shock than pain. My mind processes the feeling, the sensa...ion, and I realize it is a light touch, feathery, sleek. It could, indeed, be a feather... or fringe of a blanket... perhaps his hair. I can only imagine, not determine, as the touches and teases continue. The feathery feeling is gone now, replaced with something cold and wet... an ice cube? a popscicle? his fingers, dipped in ice water? . She melted into me and when our lips met, that was it. At this stage I was only 23, and having spent three years in an Army establishment, that was well away from civilisation, young single men didn't have a steady access to the opposite sex.She quickly made it known what she expected to be done as to the use of lips and tongues. I was an avid learner. I then decided that I would move onto something I knew more about. I undid her blouse and let her breasts be displayed. Not big, not small, just. More

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