Her hair was done up in a high tight ponytail. She had pink sparkly lip gloss. And there was a moment in the conversation where some girl made a remark with a rather provocative look in her eyes, and McKayla responded with a bite of her lip and a sultry stare for a moment, then burst out laughing as if it'd been a big joke.

I needed to make a move.

Excusing myself from my party, I took a deep breath as I spun away from the table and marched across the room. McKayla sat on one of those cheap benches of wooden slats that the makeshift restaurants in the area had cobbled together. She was closest to the wall. There was a small gap between the booths lining the wall.

Nearing the table, I pivoted ninety degrees and allowed a pen to dislodge from my casual grip near my hip. It skittered across the ground, its fine metal pinging the floor. A couple of people around glanced my way; McKayla didn't. I shrugged, grimacing slightly, and craned my neck. The pen had landed against the wall, precisely between the two booths.

Exhaling, I crouched, tilting my head, squinted, feeling the need rise. My two palms touched the floor. My eyes rose to the destination between two slats where they curved right to form the bottom.

At her bottom.

It was with ease that I slouched over the sticky restaurant floor, two steps ahead on all fours and reached with my left hand for the pen. My head, naturally, pivoted right as my fingertips strained for the wall.

My nose is fairly thin, and in its askance position easily needled its way between the lacquered slats toward the denim purse. Olfactory senses rising, I closed my eyes and plunged.

My flesh tapped the light bubble of her ass clad in cheap blue jeans, my nostrils flared, and, knowing I had only a moment, I sealed my lips. I wafted the deepest draught.

The scent of cucumber and sulfur and lavender and iron filled my head. It was heaven and, for almost a moment, I could feel a sphincter tightening, as if drawing my pointer toward it.

Knowing I couldn't tarry, I pulled the pen and withdrew. McKayla had just pivoted her head in confusing, and I withdrew from the tables, holding my pen in an open palm, mouthing "sorry" with exaggerated eyebrows and a shrug of the shoulders, and spun back to my table. I floated across the room.

I ate nothing for 48 straight hours. Once in a while, I'd close my eyes, open my lips, extend my tongue slightly, and simply sigh.

That ass scent.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2014184&forum_id=2...id.#21255625)

http://oi56.tinypic.com/2guxqqh.jpg

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2014184&forum_id=2...id.#21257823)

VERY well done, Sir.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2014184&forum_id=2...id.#21278592)

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2014184&forum_id=2...id.#26500674)

did read again

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2014184&forum_id=2...id.#33445349)