With a gentle touch, fingers lightly brush against the tender tips and I moan against the emptiness around me. I arch my breasts upward searching for...the gentle touch of your hand. My body has become impassioned with this unquenchable desire, hands, my hands, your hands, I am not sure, cup my breasts and bring them to my lips. Fingers knead and squeeze, rubbing the nipples against one another, my lips open and my tongue slithers out like a snake approaching its prey. The tip of my tongue. The epiphany. It wasn't just about getting off. And it wasn't at all about exposing my naked body to an audience. I didn't want that. In fact I wanted to avoid that. It was about the risk of being seen and the rush arising from it, especially from not wanting to be seen. Just like bungee jumping or sky diving isn't about hitting the ground at tremendous speed, but precisely about getting the rush from the risk of hitting the ground.And I had been a regular bungee jumper and a skydiver. And I. More

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