We kissed and cuddled and stroked; but there was no action below the Mason-Dixon line, as Eileen once whimsically put it. I claimed to be baffled, and she tried harder: she slid down and sucked me, caressed my balls, ran her hands over my chest and nipples, came back up and slid her big breasts all over my face, murmured dirty words to me, French-kissed me passionately. In short, she did all the things that usually would have me rock-hard within a couple of minutes—but nothing doing. .....