We met the next night in a dream, reclining in an autumn painted orchard by a river bed. On a quilted blanket of down we held each other without restr...int, lost in each others gaze that we had dared not fall prey to in waking hours. For when else but in the forgiving shrouds of dream can one hope to know such perfection without the threat of madness. A timeless passage of hours held me within those eyes until I died to be born anew. My hand brushed hers and made a slow, deliberate ascension. Hell, I masturbate even when I'm getting it every day.And he was so nice. And nice-looking. Three years without a woman's hand on him, on the cock I glimpsed him stroking this afternoon.I lay there thinking about him when I realized that I had my hand down in my panties, legs open, softly rubbing myself. Then I began reliving those moments I saw him stroking his cock and I pressed two fingers up into me.As my body shook and trembled in orgasm, I saw his hand jerk away from his cock, leaving it. More

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