And he didn’t. It was Saanvi who looked weird about it. She kept glancing at us, back and forth, while I got the cereal bowls out.It was Friday. Dad...had a couple students in the morning, and then a chamber rehearsal the afternoon. He gulped the last of his coffee, grabbed his cello case and headed to the kitchen door.“I should be back about four,” he said. “Clean up your breakfast things before you leave. Love you.”“Love you, too.”He kissed me on the head and ran his hand down my back and. I had to try and ignore my pleasure though, I had to keep working mylips and tongue and mouth as hard as I could, using every trick I knewthat Mistress loved, every flick of the tongue to those spots that gother off, just the right tempo, just the right pressure, I read her bodyas she writhed under my mouth, When I felt her starting to cool I knewjust what to change to heat her back up, when I could feel her gettinghotter I focused on keeping the pace and pressure just there.Still though the. Much to his surprise, instead of the olive-skinned merchant, Cato found himself staring into the bright and vibrant eyes of one the most strikingly beautiful women he had ever seen."Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?" he said as a smile quickly replaced his scowl. "I was expecting to meet with a fat trader of spices and wine. Instead, I find myself in the presence of this Nubian treasure."Slim, and dark as ebony, she held Cato's gaze without blinking, nodding only slightly in respect of his. My insecurities also brought me some other attention; attention I didn't know at the time was a Bad Thing.He was four years older than me, which now doesn't seem like much. But the difference between fourteen and eighteen is actually pretty massive, both from an experience and a confidence point-of-view. He was attractive and reasonably popular; someone whose name I knew but whom I would never dare talk to. Until one day, at school, he said a very casual "Hello," in the hallway. The few friends.
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