How many times do I have to tell you?”I swallowed, the wine finally overcoming my natural shyness, and banishing the nerves.“I think you’re incr...edibly attractive, Mrs—Catherine.”She gave me a weak smile.“Do you, Michael? It’s so nice of you to say.”“I mean it, Catherine. You look—simply stunning!”She gave an exasperated sigh.“Then there must be something we can do to—to rectify our mutual needs. What do you think, Michael?”My heart stopped. Did she mean what I thought she meant?She looked down.. She is stting right next to me. Her udders sitting on her thighs, waiting to be enjoyed. We turn to each other, sitting up on the edge of the sofa, and I reach for both, through the soft cotton. Feeling them, caressing them, lightly squeezing. As I squeeze, she gives a little start. Hmm, must still be a bit engorged… I take the chance, I lift the shirt, a lean over and pull one to my mouth and put the distended, brown nipple to my lips, running my tongue over the bumpy surface. She sighs with. It was the look of someone who digs you, seriously fucking turned on. Like, stupidly, impossibly, nothing-will-ever-feel-quite-the-same-again turned on. But it was more than that even. It was a look also of acceptance, of longing, of trust and of urgent desires that needed to be quenched. Some folk call it the look of love, but unless you’ve been in this exact scenario I’d invite you not to consider me a twat for suggesting that. (Oh, and there was a gentleman sucking my cock two inches from. ‘You keep your distance, and you watch. You don’t go close enough to listen, and you don’t try to steal back any stolen goods you see. You observe, you come back, and that’s it.’ ‘Don’t worry, dad,’ said Keme, and placedhis hands on his father’s shoulders. ‘I won’t do anything stupid.’ ‘You’re a good man,’ said Robba. ‘But I often find myself wishing you’ll soon outgrow your wings. I hate sending you into the wind. Even when it’s for the emperor. ‘I know, dad.’ Robba sighed and turned to take.