With one hand still cupping my breast I graze my torso with my nails as i begin a slow journey to my now trembling center.I dip one fingertip into the...cleft of my pussy. I’m startled by how wet I am. This wetness has nothing to do with the bath I’m currently soaking in. No baby this is a wetness I am very familiar with. It’s a silky warm wetness that I get whenever I think about you and those plump lips. I’ve spent days, weeks, and months imaging what it would be like to feel them on me. . The clerk was a twenty-something woman, one of those Goth/Emo types whose attitude and dress I never understood or found appealing. Typical of the genre, she had jet black hair, which was complimented by her solid black attire and matching, heavy black boots. She was covered with numerous tattoos on her arms and neck, and piercings along her ears and lips. I’m sure she had a tongue piercing, although it wasn’t obvious when I talked to her. I did see a large butterfly tramp stamp surrounded by. My eyes watered and my cheeks heated as my breath was blocked by his flesh and I pulled back instinctively, coughing as I suppressed the heaving sensation that threatened to overwhelm me. I was embarrassed at first, wondering what he would think of me being so lewd, but the caring and appreciative look in his eyes as he smiled at me, dispelling any shame I might I have felt. I smiled back and stroked him wetly."I can do better, John," I said, determined more than ever to please him."Better?" he. Nervously, Ed looked behind him and twisted over both shoulders. He managed to avoid looking into any camera but one close up shot of his face would later become cult film legend. Ed took in the full picture: Ma menacingly tapping the heavy strap against a palm; Ma’s wild eyed desire to tear into his behind etched across her face; dozens of onlookers gaping at his bent over and naked bottom, all lusting for the horror that was about to be done to it; the cameras, lights, mics and the eerie.