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The door drifted open, silent and heavy as a freshly-oiled Mercedes. We looked at each other with the glee of conspiratorial children, and stepped inside. Stanley’s private den was a celebration of bureaucratic hedonism. The hand-knotted custom rug hushed our footsteps in a cradle of wool and silk. A heavy bust of some philosopher topped a gleaming marble pedestal, spotlighted in a CD-sized halo. A few expensive-looking paintings looked down with a haughty gaze. But most impressive of all was Stanley’s desk. It appeared to have been carved, whole, from one tree. The thick trunk formed the base. Just where the branches would have reached skyward, some craftsman had leveled an even plane. As a consequence the desktop was an irregular oval. It was entirely magnificent. I’m sure this was not a room where Stanley would have entertained a cowboy and a barmaid. Far from feeling out of place, however, Hank moved around the room, flipping on lights and running his fingers over the costly. My hands touched bare skin where I'd expect to touch her panties. To my knowledge she didn't own a pair of g-string panties. Lisa thought her bottom was too big to look good in sexy lingerie, which it certainly wasn't, if you ask me, so her bare buttocks could only mean that she had "forgotten" to put on her panties. My surprise must have shown. Lisa blushed and sniggered timidly."You know, I love you so much and you have the most wonderful bottom imaginable," I said."You're only saying that to get your way with me." No, and that doesn't seem to be necessary anyway," I replied."It's too big." No it's not. It's perfect. It's soft and smooth, but it's firm, too. I could eat it."I knelt down, pushed up her bathrobe and sank my teeth into her left buttock. Lisa squealed and reached for the table to steady herself. I covered her buttocks with kisses and soft bites. Her arse was perfect and I could have gone on for hours. Lisa had spread her legs a little to keep her balance and I caressed.
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