And my parents were not interested in sharing their own until I was an adult. As Mr. Wayland began to pour, I looked at a large painting above the fir...place. It was a portrait of Mr. Wayland. He was standing in a heroic pose with his right leg raised on something as his right arm was resting against his hip. He was dressed in a red British army officer’s uniform from the 18th century. He looked like a war hero. “Ah, I see you have found Mr. Jonathan Wayland,” Reynold said with the scotch. . Exposing my soft breasts to your hungry mouth... Your tongue encircling each nipple...teasing it into hardness... Moving back and forth between the two... Sucking them into your warm mouth... My back arching against you...my legs move...wrapping themselves around you... My hips pressing against yours...my hands moving from your hair to your back...i can feel my thighs get damp... Your teasing my senses...your mouth moves from my breasts... Down my stomach... Your tongue licking around my. More

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