His cock was right there and as he placed his hand on mine I remembered the words from Fanny Hill "a head of the liveliest vermilion: no horn could be...harder or stiffer; yet no velvet more smooth or delicious to the touch. Presently he guided my hand lower, to that part in which nature and pleasure keep their stores in concert, so aptly fasten'd and hung on to the root of their first instrument and minister, that not improperly he might be styl'd their purse-bearer too: there he made me feel. ”She straightened her shoulders and I saw a determined look in her eyes, “I will do it, we will do it.”She looked me in the eyes, “thank you.”As she went up the stairs I continued down. When I reached the entrance to the grotto Cynthia called me, “over here.”I turned right and made my way through some bushes. I found myself in a well tended wood with the smaller bushes trimmed back. Following a small trail I came out into a small clearing next to the wall by the river. Cynthia lay in the center. More

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