Still holding my neck his other hand, he was steering his rampant erection forcibly in from behind. The passion he had generated was frightening, awes...me. He moved my flattened body violently up and down the mirror, my hands pressed high, nipples bending and hurting, lipstick smudging. I was gasping for what seemed my last breath. More pressure from his hand on my neck, squashing my mouth open on the mirror, saliva dribbling out while tormented nipples sc****d on the mirror again. His hand. I want to feel a breast slowly rising from her ribcage, and allow my fingers to slip inside her bra to lovingly tease a nipple, never stopping until she involuntarily gives me a soft mew of delight. But, I am good. Despite myself, I continue to caress her cheek and finger her lengthy red strands. She sleeps peacefully, her face glowing with the innocence of a newborn child. Her hands resting upon her stomach with her piano-lengthened fingers intertwined like a woven rug, she is clearly at. More

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