He never said anything about it. We have a New Years tradition at our house. As a couple meets under the mistletoe they have to kiss, and the one to break the kiss has to drink from the bowl of courage. Its straight booze, and after a few shots, you get all kinds of courage. Anything goes, and the crowd cheers the loser, boos the winner, and chants as your drink another cup. We had six other couples over. Id already broken away from two men when a stranger who came with another couple caught me under the mistletoe. He began kissing me very passionately, so I teased him back, running my tongue inside his mouth. The crowd cheered as he put his hand inside my low cut dress, feeling my breast. I responded by reaching down and unzipping his fly. The crowd roared as he bent me slightly backward and grabbed the hem of my dress. He brought it up to my waist, revealing my stocking tops and panties. I didnt know what to do then, but Jim kept clapping, yelling for him to keep going. He grabbed. ”“Okay. So those other times...”“Those weren’t me. The logs said you called me.”“Sorry.”“Oh stop sounding so Canadian. At least you made up for it, waggling your pecker for me.”“You’re so bad,” I said. “That was embarrassing.”“Serves you right. But you didn’t seem to mind it too much later on.”“Only because you were enjoying watching me. And then you joined me.”Erin grinned. “Think we’re exhibitionists?”“Not me. I don’t want anyone seeing me naked. But you can look anytime.”“Yeah,” she said. “I’m the same. I like you looking at me. Thinking about me.”“I was thinking about you long before I saw you naked. Your face, the way you are, everything about you is so...”“Perfect?”“Well, yeah.”She kissed me and we hugged. The hug became caresses, which became stroking, touching, exploring. I loved the way she touched me, and I adored touching her, how she responded with pleased little hums and sighs.“You know,” I said, mapping the satiny folds of her pussy while she stroked me, “when I join.
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