Her son was coming back to her. She could feel him returning to her, even from the watery grave his friends had sent him to. She could feel the rage inside her find a focused point of clarity that she had never known before. It consumed her and filled her with such a malevolent purpose. ‘Come to me,’ she whispered to her dead son, ‘Come…’ The children could never be trusted. Not a single one of them. She had seen them all running about before her boy drowned, smiling and innocent and putting on such a face of complete benignity that even she had been fooled. That false face they presented hid their wet, damp unions and their lovemaking and their sweaty climaxes, all so important that even the screams of dying boy were of no importance. Pamela stretched her hands to the sky and laughed, half crying and half overjoyed. The water in the middle of the lake was spewing red offal into the sky, glowing from the light of the hell unleashing just below the surface. Her nipples grew hard in. I softly trace your abdomen with my fingers as you lay there, feeling your muscular but lean arms, your skinny hairy legs that radiate the warm arousal within you. Your scent drives me crazy, and even the sweat from your armpits attracts me, and I wish you would fuck me like an a****l. I follow the treasure trail of your hair. I pinch your nipples, as erect as a woman's, and follow the trail down to your belly. You are breathing a little heavier in anticipation. I fell your belly button, and caress the pubic hair below. I am becoming more impatient for your sex, and I start to knead and scratch your skin. I want you so bad, but I will hold you in suspense first. I swirl your pubic hair in my fingers, gently tickling my fingers down to your inner thighs. I squeeze your hard ass. You have the perfect firm, cute ass, much more attractive than any woman's ass I've seen. I squeeze it and knead your ass, moving my fingers toward your member that is throbbing in anticipation. I.
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