“Beg for what?”
“For me to stop. For me to start. Depends on your particular likes, dislikes.”
“You are teasing me Wertz.”
“No this is teasing,” he told her, sliding his hand beneath her skirt, pushing fingers almost to her crotch.
Frenchie inhaled.
He stood, moved behind her and ran his fingers up the nape of her neck.
“Mmmm. Nice,” she muttered.
Hands moved over her shoulders and down her chest. Fingers unbuttoned the dress, and slid inside. Lightly touching, those digits stroked a breast, circled the n****e before the hand cupped that sleek orb, gently squeezing. His other hand followed, executing a similar dance on the other tit.
Frenchie drank of the attention, her head lolled back, lips sensuously parted. She emitted the odd gasp, the occasional moan, letting Mike know what s
