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But the night is still very young.Carefully, he will help me stand and he’ll take the shower head to rinse the soap from my body. I have to reach for the railing to keep from falling as he never fails to aim the jet directly at my swollen clit, practically bringing me to the very verge of orgasm. Waiting for me is a warm, fluffy towel and he makes sure to pat away every drop of moisture from my body, well, almost every drop. The moisture that is now flowing from my sacred space, preparing a space for him can’t be merely wiped away. Once we are both dry, he will lead me to the bedroom and he will lay me down on the bed. He circles me, watches me, he prepares for his nightly prayers. Taking the mango-scented shea butter, he will warm some in his hands until it is melted and in a liquid form. Starting at my collarbone, he will begin to anoint my body with the sweet-smelling oil and massage me from head to toe. His touch is sometimes soft, sometimes ticklish, and other times. From behind the curtain I could see her ass now as her short skirt was lifted up. But this seemed to be more than she could handle and after a few minutes she quickly pushed him away and pulled down her skirt. She took his hand and said she wanted to go back up to the VIP room. I could hear her say something to him and the word “husband” a few times. Bee and I quickly made our way back to the VIP table to wait for them. They came up a few minutes later and Viki looked extremely aroused and guilty at the same time. She was blushing and her eyes were watery and her face looked hot like she had a fever. She ran to me and kissed me and sat in my lap.She said to me, “Baby, how are you?” At that moment we executed the next phase of our plan. I said to her that I wanted to go home as I was feeling sick. I pretended to be too drunk keep my eyes open. She asked if we could stay a bit longer as she was having fun. I said I couldn’t stay awake and wanted to go home.At that moment Bee stepped in.
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And perhaps less power play, though that was fun too. While he waits he rearranges the room to make it more comfortable. Thick carpet, a big firm bed decked out and black and silver silks, drapes everywhere, a few chairs, a table by the door, cut crystal goblets and dragon-shaped decanter of blood red wine. He turns off the lights and sets strange gold glowing spheres floating around the edges of the room, no longer quite so big. He waits for the others to arrive.The next to arrive is the tall Lakotain boy, a year older than the first, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, his long jet hairs plaited into an elegant coil around his throat. He grins at the décor and then at the boy on the sofa. A tweaked eyebrow is his only other reaction and a slight narrowing of kohl lined eyes. The Lakotain snaps his fingers and suddenly the brown-blue haired boy finds his wrists securely snapped together behind his waist, tied with black cords. The other knows him better than he ought. Caramel.

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