"They're beautiful," he managed to say.

"That's all?" she said, taking hold of the hem of her coat, folding it and her skirt back until they barely covered her fork. Then she flung her knees open wider, wide enough so that on either side of the sleek, pale yellow crotch-band of her bikini panties, the tendons on the insides of her thighs stood out against the creamy skin from the strain.

Paul swallowed hard. Her legs were more than beautiful, they were magical. There was something about the shape of her calves, her thighs, the texture of her skin, that had always had the power to bring him back from the dead. Even as he stared at her, his cock began to pitch and throb in his underwear and the ache in his balls was awesome.

"Ooooooh!" she cooed, gently stroking herself from the insides of her knees to midthigh. "Look at these legs, Paul. Look how long they are. So smoooooth. How would you like to have them wrapped around your back? Real tight around your back. So tight you could hardly breathe, while your cock is going in and out of my hot, wet pussy."

He groaned. With a few words, a minimum of movement, of exposure, she had brought him to full, aching erection. His cock was so tight that it felt like a boiled hot dog about to split its skin. He started to rise.

"No, Paul!" she said, grinning furiously at him. "Stay there. If you want these legs, you must prove to me that you adore them."

He groaned again and sank back down. Dr. Blensch always demanded that he "prove" his love for her, as if only after some kind of personal sacrifice was he worthy of the honor of having sex with her. He didn't mind in the beginning. On the contrary, her kinkiness seemed very European, very sophisticated to him and he found it highly stimulating. It was only after he'd met Joselyn and discovered "true love" that he decided what she asked of him was perverted and sick. It still turned him on, of course.