She feels the way their heft counters the pull of her body-during the day, she practically ties them down to prevent exactly that, but this is a diffe...ent kind of dance. They don’t teach it at Juilliard. As she rolls her body, she lets her blouse slide down her arms a few inches with each measure. Within moments, she holds its collar in her hands. She uses it as an improvised veil, drawing it over her body and teasing him with glimpses of her skin while her fingers quietly and subtly work at. I let out a groan when he let go, Tattoo knowing I needed this rough release of emotion. He added pressure until my tits ached, his other cocks sliding towards my holes. One rose up in between my legs, almost playfully, its head almost expressing its anticipation. I smiled a little, trying to push down the sadness. But he waited until I opened my mouth before beginning, letting me signal when I was ready. Because despite everything, I still needed his touch, probably more than ever. Another. We walked in comfortable silence. When we sat and ate, I started to ask her about herself. And little by little she dropped her guard. Alice is actually Norwegian, although her mum had moved to London when she was very little and she didn’t remember much. Although she spends all her summers in Norway visiting family and loves it, London is ‘home’ now. Her real name is Erika, but Alice is her English name and she likes it better; I should call her Alice. Her mum was a young mother and her dad. I lay back in the buoyant salty water and relaxed. 'Shit, that felt good' I thought to myself, and then I realized it wasn't just the finger fuck, but it was the whole experience: Publicly showing my body; unabashedly showing my pussy to complete stranger; it was masturbating myself in public (albeit well off shore) – that felt good. I was hooked on my new found sexual liberation, and I knew it – I wanted badly to flash again, and again, and again – and I wanted to do more too... A little voice.