It felt so damn good. His hand massaged my other breast, probing and circling my nipple slowly. His other hand was atop my ass. One of his fingers sli... into my rectum and I gasped, loudly. His finger felt awkward, it was the first time Ayden had ever stuck anything up my asshole. But I couldn’t say I didn’t like it. The head of his rock hard cock was grinding, poking into my clit and slit. I was so close to an orgasm, I wanted him to fuck me then and there. And he did. Within seconds of my. He moved his mouth from hers, kissing slowly down her neck. Her skin tasted sharply of salt, the result of vigorous “dancing” in a crowded space. He loved it. This was not going to be an affair with white sheets, clean smiles, and loving embraces. It would be an appeal to his basic desires. Tonight would be about lust. About fucking. About dominating. About physical satisfaction and emotional degradation. The binge drinking before the hangover. He bit down gently on his partner’s neck as his. (For those unfamiliar with the term, I refer to the obituary column.) One Sunday, one of them caught my eye. It read, “Antoinette Dellasandro, 85, widow of the late Mario Dellasandro, survived by a daughter, Dierdre.” It brought me back to when I was a teenager. It was the spring of ’66 and I was halfway through my senior year of high school when it finally happened. I was neither a great student nor a great athlete. No one applying to Harvard had to worry about me taking their place in the. He just remembered a suffocating sensation. It took a little before he noticed Casey beside him, awake and looking concerned. “Are you ok?” she whispered. “Yeah,” he responded shakily, “it was just a bad dream. What are you doing here?” “I came to cuddle with you, silly, “ she said. “I’m sorry for dozing off on you there.” “It’s ok,” Ethan said, as he wrapped his arm around Casey, giving her a squeeze. This apparently prompted her to roll on top of him. She kissed him and then began.