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Carol and Sean nearly get caught by her husband.

He took my hand in his and held it for a few seconds while he stared into my eyes, undoubtedly trying to see if I would blink. Then he tightened his fingers around it and shook it, the warmth of his body flowing into mine. "I'm Tyler," he said. "I like that fact that you're braless under your camisole. It shows confidence."

I was pleased that he noticed my little advertisement. I didn't really have to entice him any more than he had been, but I fluttered my eyes a bit for effect. "You think I'm braless? What makes you say that? Even if I was, my boobs are so small that not even if you stared..."

"I have a trained eye," he said. "And the fact that you're Asian provides a bit of a...how do I say...visual advantage. "

A tingle ran through my body-the game was definitely on. I finished my wine and flicked my hair over my shoulders. "Hmmm," I murmured. "Why don't we take a walk outside on the patio and discuss my visual advantages in more detail?"

At this point, Tyler was completely under my control. When I turned to leave the reception area, he followed close behind. As we strolled toward a dark corner of the patio overlooking a golf course, I asked, "Can your trained eye tell if I'm wearing any undies?"

By his hesitant response, I sensed his nervousness returning. Excellent! Whatever was going to happen from that point on was totally up to me. "Um...no," he stammered. "Are you?"

I stopped walking, turned to face him and, in a deep, throaty voice, asked, "Why don't you find out?"

Tyler swallowed hard and gulped, "Here?"

I let my lips curl into a sneer, albeit a cute, come-hither sneer. "Yes. Here. Or are you...chicken?" I took a few steps away from him, leaned against a wide limestone column, started to slowly raise the hem of my miniskirt and hissed, "I asked...are you chicken?"

Tyler was on me in a second. He crushed his body on mine, pinning me against the column. He pressed his lips on mine, drove his tongue into my mouth and slid his hand up my dress. The touch of his fingers on my thighs made me shudder, and the heat he created went straight to my pussy. He paused for a second, uncertain about what to do, before he slipped two, and then three fingers into me.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You're soaked."

He was right! My boiling hot juices, freed by his penetrating fingers, literally flowed down my thighs. "Yeah," I said. With one hand I pulled his head to my mouth again and with the other unzipped his pants. I reached inside and grabbed his cock, pleased to discover that, unlike many guys would have been, he wasn't intimidated by the situation-he was as hard as a rock. "Why don't you feel my tits," I whispered. "Why don't you feel my hard, small tits. Squeeze my aching..."

I never finished my sentence. Tyler rammed his tongue into my mouth and, gasping for air, yanked my blouse out of my skirt and slid his hand under my camisole. He grabbed my breasts, kneading them, squeezing them, pinching my nipples, sending ripples of voracious lust pulsing through my body. The harder he mauled my nipples, the faster I stroked his cock.

I knew that if I didn't redirect him, he'd be spilling his cum all over the patio and probably all over me. "Why don't you feel my ass?" God how I wanted to feel the cool night air on my butt along with his hot, sweaty hands.

Like an animal, Tyler ripped his hand out from under my blouse, lifted my skirt over my hips and grabbed my butt with both his hands. In the distance I heard woman gasp. I had to control my urge to laugh when I heard mumbled, garbled words reaching my ears, words indicating disapproval. "Put your finger in my ass," I whispered.

I could tell that Tyler, despite his self-assuredness, was on the verge of passing out. He gulped, "My God!"

"Do it."

Tyler spread my ass cheeks as best he could given our position and eased the tip of his finger into my tight hole.

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