When she at last woke up, Alicia's world floated in a blurred bowl of grayish dusk. Everything was warm and fuzzy; she felt as if wrapped in gossamer — a web of tentacles, maybe, or limbs draped over her naked body. She looked aside and saw a face. It was the source of slow and regular breathing. She knew the face, the closed eyes, the sensuous mouth. Part of her also knew she had to get away from it, even if a larger part didn't want to.Alicia rolled onto her back, staring at an invisible ceiling. Her face glowed; there was a burning sensation in her eyes. She felt as if she were slowly rising from warm, viscous depths. She gasped. Then she just lay still, feeling sad. Why would she feel sad?Memories returned, and with them despair, the same burning despair that made her break down in Winter Garden. Despair of what — shame? Maybe, but surely not the familiar shame of exposing her secret darkness to the world; not the shallow fear of being finally exposed as the total slut she knew. We each turned to face each other. Holly draped one leg across my thighs and propped her other heel up on the swing seat, providing me with perfect access. When I reached up under her dress, a very wet pussy was waiting for me. Without delay, I eased two fingers inside. ‘Hmmmmm,’ Holly murmured. ‘If you get too noisy, I’ll stop,’ I warned her. ‘I’ll behave,’ she responded. ‘Now shut up and do what you did to me Monday night.’ Holly ramped up quickly in response to my probing so I decided to employ the G-spot technique that Alex had taught me. Curling my fingers upward, I stroked the vaginal wall behind her pubic bone several times in quick succession and got the desired result. ‘Oh God!’ she cried out softly,’ and then clamped a hand over her mouth as I did it again. ‘Oh God,’ she repeated, whispering though her fingers. For the next minute or so, I worked her G-spot with my fingertips and massaged her clit with the palm of my hand. Whimpering continuously through her fingers, she.
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