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She rolled the cold smoothness of the bottle across her breasts. She let it trail down her tummy and wander into the patch of hair marking her pussy. The bottle seemed to guide her hands.The stem moved between her legs and touched her pussy lips. She found the door to her cavern of passion and tried to get in. Her wet juices made it easy and soon the long stem of the bottle went slowly into her pussy. And then out. And then in. And then out.Two hands on the bottle now. Faster, faster, faster.. It usually takes about two or three minutes.On this particular night, just as I was about to orgasm, I heard a strange noise. It is hard to describe, but was something akin to a soft whisper; a still, quiet voice riding on a breeze. Forgive my clumsy attempts at poetic descriptions, but as I said, it is hard to describe. It was almost more of a feeling than a sound.Upon hearing it, I stopped masturbating and listened intently. I heard it again, but it was much quieter and more distant, and it. “Veronica’s a nice name.”“Thanks. So what do you think of our little town, so far?” she asked, moving a little closer, pressing her tits against my arm.“I can’t say for sure, but right now it’s feeling pretty good“I think I’d like to make it feel even better,” she said.“You would. What do you have in mind?”“Well, since you’re new in town. I thought you’d like some hospitality, if you know what I mean.” She reached down to my crotch and rubbed my cock through my jeans. “Looks like you’re ready. The nerve! ‘I thought you might need me for…something else.’ I answered. I didn’t sound a suave as I wanted to. ‘Something else’ was the phrase which was supposed to make her smile seductively and remove her bra. To be honest, I sounded more like a frightened little boy. I realized what a mistake I had made. Here I was thinking she was a Babe, when in reality, she was simply an adult female, who happened to conform to some media manipulated stereo-type. It didn’t matter that she was sexy. It.
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