I pull back and look at her; her eyes stare into mine, they’re amber deep and unending, searching in mine. She must've found what she was looking for because she smiles and moves to sit on top of me. She leans in again as I grab her thigh and message it, she and I embrace again. She starts slowly grinding me, my member already hard straining not to explode. Her wetness against me, her firm thigh in my hand, her warm mouth on mine as we slowly rub against each other. The bus stops and she slowly rolls off me, after we're off the bus we walk together, not saying anything, I reach for her hand and she takes mine, as we walk in I break off to my locker. That afternoon I get on the bus, she’s there, I see her and smile, she smiles back. I sit next to her, I put my hand on the inside of her thigh, she takes it and moves it up. My hand firmly in between her legs I find her lips through the thin legging material and nothing else, soaked through. I move my index down and massage picking up. As he sat among the old manuscripts stored in the room he had suddenly become aware of mumbled voices . He had looked through the key hole of the door which adjoined the room she was in and had witnessed her kneeling at the feet of the Father Confessor,he had watched her lips move in confession,but he could not hear what she was saying,how he wished he could hear what she was saying.He knelt there for sometime watching her wondering what her penance would be,he never really thought about her confessing before,he would confess to one of the Monks at the Monastery once a month and would receive between six and ten strokes of the cane as penance,the stokes would hurt and were very often delivered by a Monk who took great personal pleasure in administering the cane;but now,as he knelt peeping through the keyhole he wondered what her penance would be.He watched as she kissed the hand of the Father Confessor and then watched as the Father Confessor stood up ,leaving her on her knees.He was.
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