His other hand still held my skirt up, and he ran that hand around to my front, his fingers scooping through the juices that were sliding down my inne... thighs. His touch alone was devastating, the feel of his unholy flesh sending sparks of pleasure to shoot up and down my spine, all senses of nerve-jerking sparks to concentrate within my womb. My lips parted to allow air in as I panted. His black eyes sparkled as he watched my arousal build. Then his wet fingers slipped between his own lips. He. "It’s been so long since my husband died," she tells me. "I get so lonely, sometimes. . ." She grabs my other hand, and starts to rub it, and I know instinctively what she is going for. I’m curious to see how far she’ll take it, without any action of my own. Even though she is sitting between my legs, rubbing my hands, her eyes never leave mine, and I can’t deny that she looks years younger than she had before Christmas break. It looks like she wants something from me, so I give her a slight. More

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