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The Storm on 14-02-2020 14:17:56

George paused a moment not wanting to reveal too much about himself and thinking about his answer. The less she knew about him the better. He lied and told her he was from Harar.

He decided to encourage the uncharacteristic garrulousness in her that the pheromone induced. “How about you?”

Unusual exhilaration and a girlish silliness she had buried years ago bubbled to her surface in an odd euphoria. She opened so much to him, providing her entire life history. The moments passed, the more she talked and her tale became more uniquely personal.

Alison chattered, gazing at her pale reflection in the dark window. The glass pane clouded with moisture. It was stiflingly hot.

Without her noticing George inched closer. He comfortably reclined and put his arm around her shoulders, his touch strangely redolent of a first loves, and smiled into her face as he adjusted an extremely large bulge in his pants.

Alison saw the curved outline of his immense manhood strain against the fabric, reach above his left hip, and pop out the waistband of his trousers. She realized something was changing with her. It was as if her inviting white skin had discovered its birth right.

She couldn’t compose herself; she wouldn’t remain seated. She could not think straight anymore.

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