He found my pussy soaked in anticipation. I couldn't wait for his fingertip to find my clit. When it did, the jolt took my breath away. He always knew... just how to touch me. We both loved this part of our lovemaking. When he knew he had me completely, he whispered in my ear, "You like this, don't you? You like seeing my hands in your pants and imagining people are watching us." His tone made me feel slutty and I couldn't pretend he wasn't right. I nodded and didn't speak. Words wouldn't work to. I’ve totally forgotten about the man who slammed me against the bagel shop window. I looked at him, he looked at me and we both kind of smiled at each other. I looked at him with sad eyes like I just wanted to cry. ‘It’ll be alright,’ he replied. I just shook my head. As if on cue we both started walking. We were both getting soaked so appearance and first impression just blew out the window. I didn’t give a fuck anyway by now. I just wanted to get home. I was freezing and miserable. We made it. " That night you came to my room and told me that creepy-ass story about the car accident. You gave me exact details, exact, about what would happen, who would be in the car, etc. You told me things you had absolutely no right knowing and they turned out to be true."About the same time you completely lost all of your shyness. One day I was wondering if my little brother was ever going to get himself laid and the next day you're suddenly a male slut, bagging everything left and right and. Emma became lost in her own thoughts even as George began trying to thrust his hips up to meet her downward strokes, desperate to reach orgasm, which had the unfortunate consequence of sending several bath-tub tsunami waves of water crashing over the edge of the tub and into Emma’s lap. “Oh fuck!! Oh fuck!! What am I doing?” squealed Emma, as she snatched her hand away. Slightly stunned, and immensely disappointed, George retorted, “What? Look what you’ve done! ……Look what you were doing. ……You.