The way he were around me how ever, his eagerness to show himself to me, was what kept my hopes up. Though it sometimes seemed he was like that toward...s everyone. He was slim and in good shape, and he had long sandy blond hair. I was about the same, only with brown hair. I had been deeply in love with him for 3 years, but never got up the courage to tell him. If I did, he was most likely to reject me and I’m not sure what I would do if my hopes turned sour. So I played it cool, I didn’t take. Glade had no religious preference, but she would rather that the animals that ate her lover would do so underground and not where Glade might suffer the anguish of seeing a jackal or a hyena run away with Demure’s limbs or vital organs. And once the body was buried, all Glade could do now was weep. And weep she did. For day after day. And she did so under the shadow of the tree where she’d cared for her dying lover for so long. The tears were sometimes soft and salty. They were more often. "Do'n't touch my posterior!" her mother cried, twisting about with renewed passion.And then:"Do'n't pull my legs apart!"And then:"You must'n't touch me between my legs!"But her daughter persisted, saying, " What a lovely mass of crinkly brown hair you have, Mother, and the lips within--so plump and soft! Why, I do believe this situation is exciting you, you wicked strumpet! Your lovely mouth is quite swollen, and the clitoris here--"Here Beatrice's hand, concealed from Corky's sight by the ripe. God.. He's never attacked my clit the way he was now. And the pleasure only intensified when he d**g a finger against my covered opening. He was teasing me. Toying with me for his own pleasure. I could see it - the bulge that raged through his boxers. God that dick. I needed that dick. And of course, being the impatient woman I am, I quickly released myself from his grasp and pulled back - of course only to pull that annoying piece of cloth out of my way. For fucks sake. I wanted to feel his.