I drank her wetness and massaged her clit rapidly, she cried as her whole body tightened. My lips covered her opening. Each squirt of her clear juices...hit my tongue, rolled down it and was followed soon by another. I ran my thumb around the tip of her amorous button. Her asshole was clenching and loosening, her come flowed plentifully 'til there wasn't any left.I stood and swore from the pain in my knees. Her grasping pussy received me yet again. I rolled my hips side to side, dousing my. Having it on my finger offered comfort. A symbol of their love, just as I was. ‘Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.’ ~Emily Bronte Finally, the days were upon us. The viewings, and the funeral. They occurred. People came as quickly as others went. I sat in a chair and watched all the people I didn’t know cry at the casket. Some settled in chairs and talked with others, some left immediately, some milled about uncomfortably. My sister stuck by my side for the first viewing. He was extremely tall, at least six three or four against her five foot five. Five foot seven if you counted the heels she wore. He seemed to emanate an amazing charisma, which made her weak at the knees and where his hand held her arm there seemed to be searing warmth. Is this what they called Lust at first sight she thought? He is just too, too perfect. ‘Let me take you in to dinner.’ he murmured to her, his arm moving to the small of her back, he guided her across the room and through the. A wiggle indicated that she wanted me to release her. I did, and her thumbs hooked the waistband of those panties. And she bent over and stripped them off. Standing, she said, "Well, this is all of me..." She smiled.I smiled, too. "Perfection," I said, noting a fine fuzzy patch of blonde hair on her mons, the beginning of a sweet and magical slit peeking out from under.She took a deep breath. "Now, let's see you..."I hooked my thumbs in my own waist band."Wait," she said. "Let me."I looked at.