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I put my hands around him, kissing him back, sucking his tongue into my mouth. My arousal was overcoming my fears. My mind was racing, here I was kissing some guy I just met, dressed up like a typical teenage girl. It was almost like a dream, I felt just like a girl out on a date, making out a little. Gently he pushed me back on the couch, his kisses taking my breath away. His hands slowly sliding up my leg, slowly up, undr the hem of my skirt. Politely I took his hand away, once, twice, three times, but it always returned after a couple more kisses. Each time, letting him get a little further. His fingers slowly flicking across my crotch. Starting to moan softly, as he sat back, taking a swig off his bottle of beer. Breathlessly I sat up and tried to compose my self a little as I drank down my glass of Champale. Hollywood asked if I wanted another, “Yes please” I said as I straightened myself up. Taking the glass, I drank a little more before sitting it down. Hollywood sat close by.. I know I should have reported him, he might pose a danger to some neurotic virgin who still thinks her twat is for pissing only, and would scream the building down if she ever was exposed to a hard cock, but fuck them, 'Go on Leo, spread your sperm all over our coffee table', at least having an orgasm this early in the morning makes up for the lack of it in your bed.I stopped mid sentence, 'Jesus Leo, you fucking early bird', when even with his broad back to me I could clearly see the same pose my ex used to show me when I walked in and caught him mid stream.I turned to make sure the corridor was empty before continuing into the staff room, closing the door, whilst poor Leo frantically struggled to get his zipper back up. 'Don't snag your balls mate on my account', I said, trying to defuse his feelings of embarrassment.All zippered up he turned and finally faced me, 'Thanks Em', he said somewhat sheepishly, we were good friends in a mates sort of way, but I was never sexually.
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Can’t you see this is important to me?” “Cranberry,” I said. “The robe was darker than the night gown but not dark pink or red, I think you would call it cranberry.” Of course I remembered the robe, how it looked, how it felt to the touch and how it always seemed to come open as we danced. “The material was satin,” I added, recalling how it felt. “Makes sense,” she said. It was evident she believed me. “I guess you weren’t making it up.” The next day I stopped by the library to check a reference. On the way up the front steps I saw that Sandy was coming down on the far side. She did not see me. “Sandy,” I yelled to her. As she turned her hair swished across her face before reversing its course and gently coming to rest against her thin neck. She ran toward me and stood one step above, very near. We stood eye to eye. “Is this your free period?” she asked, handing me her books to hold. She raised both arms to the back of her head and with a swift move, rearranged her hair to her.

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