I could feel my arms, my legs, nothing moved but I suddenly knew that they were there, they were attached to me. I could feel the heaviness of the bla...nket on my body, and an added heaviness on my left leg, holding it still, still. I felt a softness on my arm, sliding, moving, stroking. Soft fingers, slowly stroking my arm. I smiled to myself. It was my wife, she used to do that, in the dark of the night when she wanted to be snuggled….or more. But then that wasn’t possible, unless it really. She'd been in his bed, letting him hold her. They had been stressed, both of them, and it was only natural—wasn't it?—that in those circumstances, they would turn to each other for physical comfort. Comfort, she decided, was probably exactly what Simon had been offering, and she left it at that.Simon wondered what Connie was thinking, but didn't ask her, as he was pondering a few things himself. Although they had both avoided discussing the previous Friday night, there had—amazingly—been no. Quickly he shut the drawer and darted out of his mother's room and retreated to his own. There he pulled the few pairs of panties out of his pocket and inspected them. They were lacy and delicate thongs, he looked inside and held the musty crotch to his nose and just touched his tounge to the thin strap of the thong. He was getting so horny thinking about naked women and sex. He really didn't have much knowledge of sex from being so sheltered so seeing a real dildo and holding panties was the. 'Come on bitch. Come on cunt, you gotta know if you don't chose, if you don't answer, it's both.' 'Please. Please, don't hurt my nipples. They're so sensitive. They're too sensitive to be tortured. I love my nipples and they're not strong enough to be hurt.' Was she crazy? That's all nipples were for. To be tortured and mutilated and ultimately cut off, that according to my bible on sexual etiquette and organization. The pursuit of orgasmic Nirvana. 'Of course, good. Good,.