I felt liberated, totally free to be myself for the first time in my life. How I loved to watch her hand traverse her frame slowly caressing her own f...ull and ample breasts, moving down towards her intensely inflamed mons, sometimes with the guidance of my own hand. How I reveled in the uptick in her breathing as I read her my explicit rapturous expressions, and noted her dilated pupils as her eyes followed the self manipulations of my strong masculine hand, taking my own measure and very slowly. And another minute, and then up again. Long, gentle fingers stroking and then curling around the softest inner-thighs, and he felt her tremble. Fingers as light as feathers; touching and gliding over satiny warm skin, and another small trembling breath from Lynda. And then at last, his hand disappeared under the dress' hemline, and moved higher still. Forever squeezing and stroking and soothing; and the girl putting her hands on the desk to support her trembling legs. And then the brush of soft. He whispered if I wanted to hire him as my personal trainer…His black hand reached out and brushed my shoulder. He then moved behind me and I could feel his hot breath on my neck. He whispered into my ear he also could give me a good massage.As his hands began rubbing my neck and shoulders, I stood there feeling my knees getting weaker by the second. But he suddenly pulled out his hands and said I should finish dressing up myself.He walked out, leaving me there shivering in pleasure… As soon I. Her tits were not large but they were perfectly shaped. She wore the kind of clothes that always flattered all her female assets. Most days, especially warm days, she was bare legged and bra less, with high-heeled sandals. Coach Jackson was a huge black man with no sense of humor. We had been state champions for as long as he was coach. No one tried anything with Mrs. Jackson despite her sexiness. Coach Jackson was too threatening.I knocked at the door of her private office at the rear of her.