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They're held prisoner at a cabin in the woods.

sk me again: "what's this for, then?"

I step towards you and undo the top button of your shirt dress. I feel you start, as you didn't know I was going to do it. It reveals a little more of your cleavage, rather more than would be discreet. I can't stop myself from landing a soft butterfly kiss on it. I hear a little sigh from you, and realise that you are quite happy to lie on the bed and see what happens next.

Kneeling, I slide my hands down your calves and slip off your shoes, a little sadly as I do love admiring your legs in heels. While I'm down there, I undo the bottom button of your shirt dress, revealing your upper thighs. I'm rewarded by another little sigh from you and a slight smile.

I sit down on the bed, slighly behind you, and start to run my hands over your back, your waist, up to your neck, and round to your front. Each time as my hands move around you, another button gets undone, then another - until at least you feel me peel open your shirt dress and your front fall open to the cool air in the room. My hands are still roaming, now moving over you but now sliding down your legs, over your bra, and brushing the front of your panties.

Abruptly, you feel me get up off the bed. You ask me "where are you going?", but I just reply "stay there". My tone doesn't invite argument. You can hear me moving around the hotel room, and you sense perhaps you hear a click of the door. Then you feel me sit down on the bed again, and my hands return to your neck, stroking the nape, brushing both the left and the right hand side down to your shoulders.

Then, with a shock, you feel a hand stroke your cheek. How can I do that, with both my hands at the back of your neck? The hands on your cheeks brushes gently down the front of your neck, and traces a trail down to your breasts. One of my hands has fallen to your waist, pulling the shirt dress wide open now. The other is still at the back of your neck, and you can sense my hoarse breathing close to your ear. But another hand is now cupping one tit and slipping a finger over and over your nipple. And another hand is stroking your thigh, and yet another one has grasped your ankle and is pulling it apart.

I push you up to stand in front of the bed, and you feel the shirt dress slide off your shoulders. There are hands all over your body, and you find it hard to know which is which, but one of them unclips your bra and it too falls away. Fingers hook themselves into your panties and you feel them being dragged down to the floor, at which point you feel my shirt pressed up against your naked back and pulling you slowly but insistently down onto the bed.

As you fall your hands flail over my shirt, and bounce off something else that feels like a belt buckle. But somehow strong hands catch you and lay you down so gently on the bed. With an odd mixture of pleasure, guilt, and excitement, you realise that you are laying naked on the bed in front of me, while I am still fully dressed; and that someone else has come in and can see you too - perhaps more than one person.

But no sooner have you realised this than you find it hard to concentrate on it, because suddenly there are hands everywhere on your body. Some are cupping your tits. Some are stroking your neck and your belly. Some seem to be insistently pulling your legs apart, then sliding inexorably up to your pussy. You try to count, to work out how many hands, to work out which are mine - but it really is very difficult to concentrate! You find yourself laying back and submitting to the hands on your body, letting them slip over your mound, finger your nipples hard, and brush over your mouth in a slippery way which you realise must be lubricated with your own juices. For you are now extraordinarily wet.

A hand reaches out and grasps yours, raising it up.

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