She reminded me of the many Asian string players I had fallen in love with over the years whenever I went to the symphony. Long silky black hair comb...d straight down past her shoulder blades, an oval face and brown eyes, behind black-framed round glasses. The image of her face vanished from my memory like a ghost as soon as I looked away, which I found hard to do. She was dressed, in fact, like one of the orchestra girls that had won my heart – knee-length black skirt, white blouse that. I was breathing hard as my cock was becoming flaccid. Ms. Maynard had crawled over my body once more, stretching out her arms and legs on either side of me, the black skirt riding up her lean, smooth thighs. "Why?" I asked weakly, looking up into her eyes. "Why didn't you want to have sex properly?" Again that wry smile hung on her lips. "The fun is in the anticipation, Enyo. We'll do this another time, and who knows, maybe next time I'll let you fuck me properly." Nothing short of. More

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