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She was quite tall for a Japanese girl, somewhere over 5'6", with black hair done in a high, two-forked braid that ran long over one shoulder and short over the other. Despite being a priestess, she wasn't dressed in your symbols at all... instead, she wore an old, shinto-style priestess garb, with a white, cloth garment on top and a long, red hakama on the legs, tied up on the waist with a large bow just above the belly. Her breasts looked... hm... maybe not as big as the average priestess'. Given her height and weight, they were B cup at best. Her muscles looked... athletic? That's a nice way of saying that she looked like a better fit for jogging or swimming than she did wrestling down other priestesses. You would be remiss not to examine the curve from her waist to her hips in this sexy relic of a religious garment; it seemed like she'd probably have a pretty cute butt for whatever priestess gear she ended up wearing. That thought excited you a bit, but...At this moment, her. I gasped in pain, shocked at the boldness of his advance but kept silent, terrified Martha would find us. The kiss seemed to last forever. He ran his hands up and down my back, pushing his groin against my stomach and fondling my ass. When he broke off the kiss, he left me desperate and disheveled, leaning against the wall to support myself, more aroused than I cared to admit. I was a shattered mess the rest of the evening, hoping Martha would attribute my behavior to my recent loss of my husband. I avoided seeing him again, but Martha is my best friend and I knew she would be hurt if I didn't attend. It was her social event of the year. I accepted. My worries were for naught. I had a delightful time flirting at the party with men I knew and a couple I had never met. I even flirted with Martha's husband. All the men were perfect gentlemen. I kissed a few, flaunted my decolletage the entire evening and sat on more than a few laps and several erections. I danced and rubbed against many.
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