She was blessed in this regard as well. Her lips were full, her face round and doll-like, and her nose was the shape that made me think of angels. “...So nudists don't like sex?” my voice trembled, hell, I was trembling. My pores were still alive from having just masturbated, my thoughts were still on sex, and she was so beautiful, and so close. I didn't get an answer, or maybe I did because her hand went to my small breast and cupped it. She gave it a squeeze and pinched the nipple. I felt heat. I remembered the first time she killed someone. Of course I do. She killed someone who was trying to kill me. Way back in Buffalo, 22 years ago, in the basement of an abandoned office building. It changed her. It changed me. It changed both of us, and in ways we both took a long time to come to grips with.The fact that the body of our victim was never even identified, that the investigation was closed within a week or so, and that fact that we had rid the world of a murderous lunatic all. I sent my tongue into his mouth on an exploration journey that ended a full 3 or 5 minutes later. My mouth and lips were wet. He had meanwhile pulled aside my dupatta and it was lying on the ground, now at least 3 feet away.I pushed myself back and saw with amazement that he had a huge hard on that was poking out of his pants obscenely. He requested for a quick sexual intercourse, but I sternly refused. Somewhere inside though I wanted him, I felt that I still had the scope to delay the. Anyway, he's really into bondage and he's always been after me to give it a try. Steve’s fiftieth birthday was coming up, so Mark and I decided that as his gift we'd throw him a surprise bondage birthday.We put a really thick, comfy duvet on our kitchen table, which I lay down on. I was naked, except for my black, stay-up stockings and six inch heels. Mark slid me down the table so that my legs were dangling over the end of the table, and he put a pillow under my ass, making my pussy easily.