The night before, and the morning after, came flooding back in a tidal wave of emotions. Niko, she thought. Alive.Looking at her surroundings, she saw...the box containing packages of dried food and bottled water. A shirt hung over the foot of the bed, obviously belonging to the man who had taken her from her home the previous night. She pulled herself away, stood to step back from the garment as if it were about to attack.She was thirsty; so thirsty that her throat felt like it had closed.. .. in perfect imitation of the way she'd do it. Her head turned towards him and their eyes met as her fingers gently parted the soft folds in search of the tiny button that would release her passions. "Touch me," she whispered, "I want to feel your hands on me... Touch me, while I touch you." He slid down slowly in the chair, his hand gliding smoothly over his stiffening cock as her fingers delicately entered her wetness. Her legs opened as if to accept him, "I want to feel your tongue on me,". You know…if she’s your type”.“I can usually tell if she’s my type”, said Mary ,” I have lots of experience”.Mary Harrington wore her hair as she had always worn it, down to her shoulders and slightly wavy. The only difference was that it was now a shiny white. In her early 60s, Mary was a very attractive woman with a slightly bony face showing a only a few wrinkles and age spots. She was medium height and her breasts hung down slightly, her nipples slipping out of her pyjamas, as she bent down. I'm finger-fucking my cunt while lying in piss. Damn, that makes me horny. I'm not even close to coming when a voice startles me out of my stupor. "So that's why your room's smelled faintly of bedpans," my mother's voice says dryly. My legs snap shut as I jolt to an upright position, right hand still trapped between my legs. "Mom! What are you doing home?!" I ask dumbly. I hunch over, trying to cover my breasts with my other hand. Right now, my nipples are poking out through my dress shirt,.