Both of us were breathing heavy, mouths open. He brought himself back up to me, one hand holding himself up, the other squeezing my thigh. He picked u... his pace. I could feel the tip colliding within me. Our respective waves built up and up with each thrust. He gripped me and the sheets and grunted as his hips thrust with emphasis. Once, twice, three times inside me, his seed filling me wholly; the sensation enough to send me over the edge with him. I cried out his name, or, at least that’s how. I guess they probably are, they're not that old." "How old are you, Lynda?" "Twenty-seven." A bit older than I'd thought. "I'm guessing that you've probably got good reasons for not being in contact with your family. Maybe that's something we could explore further at another time?" "Okay." She sounded like she'd rather have a root-canal, but that wasn't surprising under the circumstances. "Let me ask you something, Lynda. Other than getting your letters, what do you hope to get out of our. More

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