Besides, the real show was the crowd. A collared male wearing only a leather vest and leather chaps was being led by a no-nonsense looking female with a riding crop. She seemed to be advertising for whoever wanted to be next to be punished. A husky male with piercing eyes approached her and began talking. As he spoke, never turning his attention from her, he fondled the slave's naked ass until he could work a finger into the slave's willing asshole. About six feet to their right, three women were talking together. They started giggling about something and the one facing the other two, playfully reached over and pinched the nipple of the woman wearing the most see-through blouse of the three. They all laughed harder. Most of the crowd was dressed to impress. Some wore only body paint that revealed as much as it concealed. Touching was invited and appreciated. You were standing in front of me. My cock was enjoying the curve of your ass. The smooth material of your wraparound skirt. It took a few moments before I realized what it was. I smelled Old Spice Cologne; my best friend used it his whole life. He had been dead for three years. I don’t use any fragrances. It was coming from the clothes hamper my wife used for her working clothes.Jennifer Wooten was a classmate in college. She was a sophomore, and I was taking a freshman-level philosophy class as an elective to complete my humanities requirement. I was a senior working on a double major in Finance and Business Management.I was not having any significant problems with my other classes, but this class was a mystery. Jennifer tapped me on the shoulder one morning as we were exiting the lecture hall.“Excuse me, I am Jennifer Wooten, I notice that you seem to be having some difficulty with this class. I am the moderator of a small study group for this class. If you would like, I will give you the information and you can join us.”I had moved to the side of the hallway, out of the way of the student traffic. I.
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