Then comes the voice of shadow again, comforting in its familiarity, exciting in its strangeness. ‘I fear this poor rose has now wilted in despair,...having not only seen but tasted your sweetness. Thus, I offer in its place, my own kiss…knowing despair will wilt me not, rather will desire grow a stronger vine…’ Nearly as tender as the touch of the rose are the lips that first lightly brushes along Shelli’s outer lips, yet far warmer than the now discarded flower. Tenderly do they caress, and. You’re in such a lovely, deep, relaxed place, that you can allow what’s left of your mind to drain down into your chest. You have nothing else to think about. You can let all your thoughts flow down along with your inhibitions. All those thoughts and worries and you don’t have to think at all about where you are. The world is floating away as you let that pleasure build up in your sensitive little nipples.”If I pretend I have no control over them, Fiona struggled to say to herself, then it’s. More

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