This is fucking. This isn’t making love. There are no words, no tenderness in the way my finger is filling you and in the way you feel that emptines... as it retreats, almost fully out, until it plunges back into you, rubbing the sensitive pink folds inside, that velvet tunnel in which I have taken up residence with my hand. At the same time, you feel my thumb passing over and rubbing your clit, also in that back and forth motion accompanying the in and out of my finger. Each time I touch you. Stupidly I asked, "Where's this going, Rose?"She replied, "Well, if you want the whole story, Rob used to like to soak and have me bathe him when we got home from the store. Would you like something like that?" I could feel my penis getting harder until it was pressing against and constrained by my jeans, preventing it from rising to its desired stance. Rose looked down at my lap and said, "I think you would like it, maybe a lot." As she let her hand glide up my thigh to the bulge in the crotch. More

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