..” She got off the bed and walked toward me pressing her hips to mine and taking my finger into her hands and placing it in her wet mouth. She clos...d her eyes and sucked it slowly as my eyes just got wider and my dick pressed into her groin. She finally released my finger and I looked into her eyes, seeing a lust I’d never noticed before. I knew exactly what she wanted.I let my hands wander to her ass, rubbing it and grabbing the jean covered flesh as I pushed my manhood into her pelvis. I skipped around quite a bit, reading passages I wrote about Birgit and trying to find proof one way or the other. Then I came to the pages labeled June 10, 1978. I knew they were written days later, but they captured the utter despair I’d felt at Birgit’s death. I saw the tear-stained pages and knew that I could never, ever, simply enter this into my computer and dispose of the pages. They meant too much to me. I read every line and tears began streaming down my face as I read them. Tears,. Jean-Pierre, content to wait; Peter, fretting: the black dress?The red suit? Will a quick brush do; perhaps it'd better, dark lipstickbetween darker lines. Pale shadow below arching brow, darker eyelashes,flush of rose on cheeks. Perhaps he'll complain he had to wait so long,then smile, the way men do when their date fusses over how she looks.But Jean-Pierre waits, politely.The bar, it could be any bar. Except it's not. It is the place wherePeter goes, where he can find who he is seeking for. “Oh fuck, JJ, I'm cuminggg.”Ingrid's hands were now pulling my face tight against her pussy. My nose was buried in her slit, but I was able to move upwards enough to nip her clit with my teeth. Ingrid screamed as her pussy squirted a stream of her cum juices onto my chin. A second later she roughly pushed my head away from her pussy.“No more, I can't take it no more. I'm too sensitive.”I still had her knees pinned to the mattress. I raised up on my knees and slapped the hell out of her clit.