tavern wench staying up late to serve the last straggler in the dining room— a mysterious traveler who has been watching her closely and appreciatively all night. generic conversation turns to flirting turns to euphemism. Before long the wench finds herself pliant and aching under the stranger’s hands— massaging when she’d expected to be groped. She would have welcomed being groped by this one if she was honest, but instead the stranger had rubbed her sore neck, shoulders, and back as foreplay. Wanting to hear more of her moans, they spread her over a table and lifted her skirts, applying the same dedication to her cunt with fingers as well as tongue. then inviting her up to their rented room, in the case she wanted to continue their activities…
