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“Oh, hello,” I sort of stammered. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry. Would you care to join me for a drink ?” he asked.“Not here.” I replied. “Let me go change, I’ll only be a few minutes”.“I’ll see you down in the car park” he whispered. I raced to the room. Quick change. Black underwear, he’ll like the contrast with my white bitch skin, I thought. Stockings, suspenders, definitely.I rushed to the lift.“Where to ?” he asked when we got in the car. “You choose” was my bland reply.We headed out of Rotterdam and stopped at this lovely country hotel. Once in the bar, we chatted about this, that, anything and everything. The sexual tension in the air was electrifying. We laughed and I thought, come on, this is going nowhere. At that very moment, his hand strayed to my knee. It was as though he had read my mind. “I’ll get a room, if you like”. I just nodded.In the lift, his strong arms wrapped around me and those big hands grabbed my bum cheeks. He was treating me like a bloody. I worked my tongue up and down the length of her slit and she bucked her hips forward every time I reached her clit. With my free hand I reached down and stroked my cock. It was rock solid and was sore to touch. I needed it inside her.I got up and pulled her closer to the edge of the sofa, "no no wait!" I froze as she moved back. "Do you have a condom? I'm not on any birth control!" Eh, no" I dumbly responded, my hands still firmly on her hips."Umm" she bit her lip, thinking what to do "ah fuck it" she said moving her hips back out to the edge. "Just please don't cum in me?"With a reassuring "ok" I quickly positioned myself and eased my hardened member inside her soaking pussy. "Easy Robbie" she groaned as she held my chest and I eased more of myself inside her. "It's been a while" she winced in slight pain. Man was she tight, it must have been a while since she's had something fill her up so much. I held myself inside her waiting for her to get used to me. Moments later she looked.
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’ ‘All right Mark, what would you like to talk about?’ ‘Oh please Jenny, after all these years and you ask what we have to talk about? I tried to contact you at the school but…’ ‘The last time we met it was to say goodbye and I told you never to try and see or contact me again.’ ‘…but you’d gone from the school. They said Old Brandy…Mr. Brandon had died and you’d left. They gave me an address and I followed it up, but you’d gone from there as well, and they didn’t know where.’ ‘Why did you try and find me when I’d told you not to see me again?’ ‘You know why, Jenny. Have you any idea how cruel that parting from you was?’ ‘Yes, I do know, it was hard for me too, but that was the way it had to be, you knew that. You had your life in front of you, any contact with me might have messed it up. As it is you seem to have done well. ‘Mr. Philips’, you know, I’ve often wondered why people study so hard to get the title ‘Doctor’, and then when they become specialists they go back to where they.

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