When she came out she gasped, ‘Ready.’ I stared at her. She was wearing a long fawn caftan style dress. I couldn’t remember ever having seen he... in a dress. On first meeting her I’d detected something different about her. Now I could see what it was. She had grown her hair longer but this morning it had been tied back so it wasn’t so easily noticeable. Now she had it down and it reached to just above her shoulders and was trimmed straight round the bottom. It was a sort of reddish brown in. A rough, calloused hand rubbed its fingers through the curly patch of pubes that covered her wet cunt. They were matted to the folds but provided little in the way of impeding his assault. The man molested her, forcefully stroking a finger inside of one of the last vestiges of privacy she managed to keep every boyfriend from touching. He gathered up her sloshing wetness on a fingertip, stirred it around in her and withdrew the very same finger to drink its elixir. The taste of youth brought him. More

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