His hands are roaming all over my body, dragging the fabric of my uniform up and up, until my thighs are all bare and open and he can knead the flesh. My own hands can’t stop touching him, feeling his shoulders, his back, grabbing his ass. The blunt heels of my boots rub against his jeans, slide along the bed as I kiss him back. I do what he tells me with his mouth to do. I open. I let him in. I let him play with my tongue. I let him taste me.
