‘Morgan?’ I asked, inhaling the pine bough smell of her hair, or perhaps it was the pine bough smell of the tree – I was suffering from sensory ...verload at that particular moment. ‘Yes?’ she said, in a small, pitiful voice. ‘It’s been a long time for me too.’ ‘Let’s not talk about it,’ she whispered. ‘Just hold me.’ By this time, her hands had found their way up under the back of my shirt. She clamped her body tighter against mine, my dick pulsating against her soft tummy, my hands sliding up. Her hips started to move slowly in respond as I was hungry to taste more. I continued to explore every crease with my tongue as her moans became louder; her hand was gripping my hair. Closer I moved, to that little knob I knew was up there, which was most likely craving for attention. I looked up, seeing her chest rise and fall quickly, her hand was massaging her breast. My fingers played with the entrance of her tunnel, while I pushed my tongue up under the hood, touching her clit. Her whole. More

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