Just as I was finishing a light massage on her tummy, she said, “Pete, would you like to touch them?” With a lump in my throat, I stuttered, “Rh...da, I don’t know if I should. It doesn’t seem right. You’re almost like a mother to me.” “I want you to touch my breasts, Pete.” “Well, if it’s O.K. with you.” My hands automatically were drawn from her tummy to her breasts. I didn’t just touch them. I began to massage them, softly squeezing the firm flesh. Turning and kneading each breast with both. Soon, I kissed her soft beautiful shoulders. I took her arm in my palms and caressed with one palm while holding in another. She looked lovingly at my gesture, I looked at her and smiled, she responded with a smile, I said, Smita, every part of your body is artistic.I kissed her palm, reversed it and kissed back of her palm, kissed her fingers, took fingers in my mouth one after another caring not to let my saliva apply on her fingers, kissed her fingers again. Kissed her wrist, went up, kissed. More

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