And his pants. I ask "do you still want that back rub?" Please, he says, voice low and husky, takes off his shirt and rolls onto his stomach. Hmm...ma...be he really does just like a back rub...at first anyways. I'm a bit tipsy, the booze is really starting to hit me. I lean down, practically fall on his bed next to him, to which he laughs and helps me sit up, pressing a hand into the very small of my back and massaging-like he knows that is a 'hot spot' for me. He rolls back to his stomach. I. You started pausing on my flat chest to feel my c***dish nipples and then you would cup my tiny mound through my panties. I understood this is why you were sorry, but didn’t understand why – what it meant – why were you touching me? Why were you crying?I just watched – afraid to move. You were so strange. And then as your hands started grabbing tighter, pulling harder, probing deeper, you groaned, moaning a loud “I’m so sorry baby” and then turned your hips towards me pressing the head of your. More

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