submerge herself in the still waters of the now, to drown out all thoughts of Conrad and what he had made her do, she lifted one hand and held it above her sex.
Very slowly she lowered it. With the lightest imaginable touch she let her fingers drift in random motions over the thin cotton fabric of Vaughn’s shorts, sensing with her fingers the delicate rising and falling landscape of her hip bones, the little hill of her mound, the shallow basin of her belly. Reaching further down she gently cupped her hand between 63
her legs, pressed her palm and fingers against herself, pulled slowly forward, pushed gently back.
It still amazed her, the intensity of the sensation she could arouse from her body.
Her very lightest caress, the one she could feel with her sex but not with her hand, stirred a delicious yearning ache. She was not yet open to herself there, her most delicate, sensitive places were still hidden from her wandering fingers as they teased her mound and lips through her shorts, gliding further and further back, down between her thighs, past her sex, sliding lightly down along the valley where the firm, plump spheres of her ass met, then back up, pressing a little more intensely, gently rubbing her still hidden clit between her fingers and her pubic bone.
She had not touched them, but she felt her nipples stiffening, tingling vaguely as if asking for her attention. She stilled her hand for a moment where it lay at her sex.
Laying still and quiet she focused her attention on her breasts, imagining how they looked at this moment as she lay on her back. Their roundness gently softened against her prone body, but her aureole still rising above, bearing her nipples up. With her two hands she took the hem of her t-shirt between thumbs and forefingers, and tugged down just a little, dragging the fabric against the tips of her breasts, feeling the subtle caress of the cotton. Just that was something. She slid her palms up her belly and gently cupped her breasts, feeling their soft warmth filling and overfilling her hands. With two index fingers, then, she traced circles around that raised, constricted flesh and felt that deliciously irritating little pulling sensation from her stiffening nipples down through her belly to her sex. She went on, gently teasing herself, letting her fingertips brush lightly against those sensitive protrusions, then, almost forgetting how strange it was to 64
be doing this, all alone in the dark under the covers, she pinched her nipples, feeling those tugging strings running through her body constrict suddenly, and with each little pulsing squeeze at her tits she felt her sex cry out in response.
She was throbbing, down there, between her legs. She wanted it, wanted to get herself off, spreading her legs and rubbing her aching secret flesh. She forgot her selfconsciousness. With her left hand she lifted the waistband of Vaughn’s boxers away from her tummy, and her right hand took the invitation. Her bare skin was hot and smooth and eager for her fingertips. Tracing delicate circles, spiraling out then in before gliding down to the very first hint of her slit, then back along that crevice to the little bit of moisture awaiting her, taking it up, opening herself, seeking that tiny place of enormous feeling. She was thinking of Vaughn.
In her mind they were in the living room, she on the sofa, he standing by the fire, the inevitable glass of whiskey in his hand. He was looking at her intently, not looking away when she noticed, challenged his stare. Feeling embarrassed and a little frightened, she got up from the sofa. Attempting an air of nonchalance, she went to the dining table to pick up a book she had been reading. Vaughn came up behind her, pressing himself against her, gently pinning her between his body and the table. The fear his strength elicited in her was exciting. She was helpless to resist as he pushed her forward, bending her over the table before him. Through her
Very slowly she lowered it. With the lightest imaginable touch she let her fingers drift in random motions over the thin cotton fabric of Vaughn’s shorts, sensing with her fingers the delicate rising and falling landscape of her hip bones, the little hill of her mound, the shallow basin of her belly. Reaching further down she gently cupped her hand between 63
her legs, pressed her palm and fingers against herself, pulled slowly forward, pushed gently back.
It still amazed her, the intensity of the sensation she could arouse from her body.
Her very lightest caress, the one she could feel with her sex but not with her hand, stirred a delicious yearning ache. She was not yet open to herself there, her most delicate, sensitive places were still hidden from her wandering fingers as they teased her mound and lips through her shorts, gliding further and further back, down between her thighs, past her sex, sliding lightly down along the valley where the firm, plump spheres of her ass met, then back up, pressing a little more intensely, gently rubbing her still hidden clit between her fingers and her pubic bone.
She had not touched them, but she felt her nipples stiffening, tingling vaguely as if asking for her attention. She stilled her hand for a moment where it lay at her sex.
Laying still and quiet she focused her attention on her breasts, imagining how they looked at this moment as she lay on her back. Their roundness gently softened against her prone body, but her aureole still rising above, bearing her nipples up. With her two hands she took the hem of her t-shirt between thumbs and forefingers, and tugged down just a little, dragging the fabric against the tips of her breasts, feeling the subtle caress of the cotton. Just that was something. She slid her palms up her belly and gently cupped her breasts, feeling their soft warmth filling and overfilling her hands. With two index fingers, then, she traced circles around that raised, constricted flesh and felt that deliciously irritating little pulling sensation from her stiffening nipples down through her belly to her sex. She went on, gently teasing herself, letting her fingertips brush lightly against those sensitive protrusions, then, almost forgetting how strange it was to 64
be doing this, all alone in the dark under the covers, she pinched her nipples, feeling those tugging strings running through her body constrict suddenly, and with each little pulsing squeeze at her tits she felt her sex cry out in response.
She was throbbing, down there, between her legs. She wanted it, wanted to get herself off, spreading her legs and rubbing her aching secret flesh. She forgot her selfconsciousness. With her left hand she lifted the waistband of Vaughn’s boxers away from her tummy, and her right hand took the invitation. Her bare skin was hot and smooth and eager for her fingertips. Tracing delicate circles, spiraling out then in before gliding down to the very first hint of her slit, then back along that crevice to the little bit of moisture awaiting her, taking it up, opening herself, seeking that tiny place of enormous feeling. She was thinking of Vaughn.
In her mind they were in the living room, she on the sofa, he standing by the fire, the inevitable glass of whiskey in his hand. He was looking at her intently, not looking away when she noticed, challenged his stare. Feeling embarrassed and a little frightened, she got up from the sofa. Attempting an air of nonchalance, she went to the dining table to pick up a book she had been reading. Vaughn came up behind her, pressing himself against her, gently pinning her between his body and the table. The fear his strength elicited in her was exciting. She was helpless to resist as he pushed her forward, bending her over the table before him. Through her
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