Lydia felt her heart pounding so hard she thought it could rip through her rib cage. She could tell he was as excited as she. The air between them grew thick and hot. She would never forget the young man's appearance as he stood in front of her. He was the most handsome and masculine young man she had ever seen. Dressed in eighteenth century costume with a worn brown leather belt and jackboots he was severely good-looking.

"I-I have a friend," Lydia stammered. She wanted to stay, to close the door behind her and stay with this man. The confused girl couldn't avoid the strange thought of giving herself completely to him – a strange thought considering the number of men and boys she had fought off in the back seats of many cars.

"She can wait," he said, stretching his powerful arm over her left shoulder and shutting the door softly. Lydia felt her throat constrict and her mouth grow dry as cotton. She could still turn around and leave. Nothing had happened yet. He had barely touched her. There would be no hurt feelings on either side. Yet one look at his incredibly handsome face told her leaving now was impossible.

"Come here," he said in a thick voice, sliding his hand down her shoulder to her elbow. That strange, throbbing tingle came again as his calloused hands scraped over her flesh. It was insistent, that feeling. It began along the insides of her thighs like a tiny electric shock, building until her cunt-lips, asscheeks and belly felt heavy and flushed. She moved past the window as if in a trance, her legs seeming to belong to someone else.

Her cunt felt hot and very wet. As her hips moved from walking the velvet inner pussy surfaces rubbed together and hot juice seeped out to dampen the crotch panel of her panties. This was the worst she had been ever. She was suffering from an attack of horniness, something she had never experienced before.