"Oh, you must tell me what you mean, please," I begged as our lips parted.
Appearing then to realise where his hand was, he placed it instead upon my upper thigh where his fingers savoured the ridging of my stocking top through the fine cotton of my dress.
"I meant not to kiss you - yet how delicious you are," he muttered. His desire to be encouraged was obvious.
"Dear Uncle, if you mean to kiss me, you shall, for I see no harm in it. It is not a very wicked thing to do, is it?"
"Nor this?"
With something of an eager grin he replaced his cupping hand, this time upon my other breast, allowing it to swell in his grasp as had its neighbour. Glancing swiftly down at his breeches I saw that he was well-armed for an amourous conflict but felt certain that he would not attempt one at this ti
