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"Let me feel you, baby. Let me take you in my hand," she murmured.
"Mmm--mmm," he said. "In a minute." He buried his nose in her neck and inhaled. "You smell good enough to eat. What is that--vanilla?"
"Vanilla musk," she answered in a throaty whisper.
He pressed his pelvis against her backside. "God, your ass turns me on. It's getting me really hot." He slipped his hand out from her panties and led her over to the couch.
"Lay down," he ordered and she complied.
He unzipped his fly and slipped off his pants, tossing them to the side. He was wearing a set of fitted black boxer briefs.
Marla giggled. "Love the sexy drawers."
"Thank you. Love yours, too. Too bad they have to go now."
Before she could blink, he'd slid his hands up to her waistband and pulled her panties away from her derriere, down her legs. He pushed her legs up and back to ease the panties off her ankles. She rolled backward on the sofa until her feet were over her head, her thighs pressed against her belly.
"Flexible, aren't you?" he said.
"From yoga and the gym. This is called 'the plow.'"
"The plow? Is it hurting you, rolled over like that?"
"Nope. Actually, I spend a lot of time in this position at the gym."
"Oh? Don't guys stare at you?"
Marla laughed. "I'm not quite dressed like this. And, anyway, I stick to the women's section."
"Well that's good. I wouldn't want other guys staring at what's mine."