Oh God, so close. With my free hand, I twisted and pulled my hard, rubbery nipples, tugging hard enough for tiny gasps to escape my mouth. I’d misse... him pinching and tugging my nipples. He knew exactly how far to push me, just how hard to pinch and pull.I was up to three fingers in my pussy, Bob still in my unpacked luggage like a relic from another time. Head pressed into the pillows, I raised my hips, pushing against my hand, imagining it was his hand, his fingers. I needed him. I hadn’t. Where I grew up was a small town in Western New York, and we had a giant melting pot of people living there. We had Swedish, Norwegian, Italian, Irish, English, and German descendants who had lived there for at least four or five generations. As a result, we had a good mix of people living there. Furthermore, our town was one of the stops on the underground railway for escaping and free slaves during and immediately after the Civil War. So like I said we were a pretty good melting pot of. More

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