But I didn't. I reached for my breasts, holding them.Squeezing them. I watched as my hand lifted them, bounced them. Icraned my neck down, eagerly,...just catching my nipple with my. God.Reflexively, my hand went down to my crotch. I cupped this pussy. Mypussy. My vagina. The edge of my hand came up between my labia, slowly, exquisitely. Itreached up near my clittie and I felt a wave of intoxicating warmth,pressure, sensation. My hands worked together and spread my outer lipsto show me. If I was out during the day, she would tidy up, and get angry at me because she had cleaned up my mess. I don't know what went wrong for us, but somehow it stopped working.It took us another year to end it. We both cried a lot, and I still do when I think too much about that night in the bar when we first made love. Our break up was logistically difficult, because neither of us had anywhere to go. We ended up living together. We agreed that I would look for work in another city, and when I. More

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