My cock pushed harder at the terry cloth confining it. I wished that the sweater had a living woman wearing it. I loved sweaters, but sometimes it was...just a bit lonely with only a piece of fuzzy cloth for company. I sighed again as I felt two soft hands caress my cheeks and lips touched my brow as fleeting as a butterfly's touch.My eyes flew open. I found myself looking into two pools of inky darkness surrounded by long thick dark grey lashes. The dark pools grew smaller and I gazed on a. “No,” he replied, “I wouldn’t call then ‘provocative’.”I slipped back on to the bar stool, spreading my legs as far apart as I could, and slipping my fingers along the inside edge of my shorts next to my crotch.“Would this be provocative?” I asked.“Yes,” he replied, his eyes glued to my crotch, “that would be classified as provocative.”I unsnapped the snap of my shorts and peeled them open.“How about this?” I pressed.“Yes,” he replied.‘And if I do this?” I asked, slipping my manicured fingers. More

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