I started to slide my hand down under my clothes and into my thong and started playing with my clit.My mind started racing as I dreamt of racing down ...ountry lanes on the pillion of the bike, holding onto him as tight as I could, with the engine screaming as we leaned one way then the other, the bike snacking its way round the bends.Still touching my clit with one hand I found my other tugging on my nipples as I moved the story on in my mind.We had pulled over now into a layby. I took off my. Cassie got used to the routine and it became a way of life for her.My writing progressed and I sold my first book sixteen months after Jean and I compromised. I went and signed on with an agent who understood my situation. I did a lot of magazine articles and worked on a new book. My stories kept getting more and more involved. My brother, who worked as a CIA agent, came and stayed one summer. I picked his brain and was able to produce a thriller that made the best seller's list--for a whole. Oh my, this was delicious and wonderfully impractical. The girls were being devoured as the men quickly twigged that they could pull our bikini bottoms to the side and their tongues went to work as well as their fingers invading us as we tried to carry on the contest.We eventually put our costumes back on and went back to the motel suite where each couple continued with their swimming partner, before swapping. Heather was off-limits to the men for fucking, but David still managed to persuade. She still had the scar over the eye and the broken nose, both courtesy of Rashumba, plus a good few more scars on her once prefect features. Despite her battered appearance she was lovely to look at. But this was not the old Clemmy. This Clemmy was a venomous warrior who neither showed nor expected mercy. It was a hard and desperate woman who was demolishing her opponent, not only without pity, but with brutal enjoyment at the pain she was inflicting. Clemmy wasn't only fighting to win, she was.