As he realised I wasn't going to stop him, he got a little more confident and his other arm, which he had round me, started moving closer to my other ...oob. I just looked up at him for some reason and as I did, he simply looked down at me and moved his hand up and layed it straight onto my boob. I was transfixed and just kept looking up at him and he down to me, as his hand started rubbing my very excited boob. It was a very strange feeling for me, but very nice, I couldn't believe it, I was. How about picking me up? You can play my piccolo." Sammy, you're impossible. I'm still feeling the effects of Wednesday night. Your piccolo felt more like a French horn."I laughed, and heard her say goodbye without making definite arrangements to have dinner.On Sunday, I told Marcie about Roland being a Dearborn graduate. "He's easy going; I wish I could let things slide off my back the way he does." Maybe his trait will rub off on you," she suggested."Not me, I could never do that." I'm glad. More

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