He wanted desperately to be number forty to give her a memento of his long denied longing to feel her inner perfection holding him safely inside her l...ving, breathing feminine core.The horny seventeen year old had accidently seen her taking it from behind standing slightly bent over in the basement hallway from some skinny prick with a tattoo on his frigging haircut-needed neck. He was close enough to hear them both grunting with the exertion of jointly pounding her hour-glass figure into the. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whimpered, her face buried in my chest, ‘it’s just that it’s been so long…’ By this time my hand was touching the small of her back, inching up under her sweater. Her skin was soft, warm, inviting. ‘Morgan?’ I asked, inhaling the pine bough smell of her hair, or perhaps it was the pine bough smell of the tree – I was suffering from sensory overload at that particular moment. ‘Yes?’ she said, in a small, pitiful voice. ‘It’s been a long time for me too.’ ‘Let’s not talk about. More

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