He looked at the woman in bed, frail and getting weaker each day, her face pinched with pain, the sparkle gone from her eyes and lent over kissing her...cheek. ‘Next thing you’ll be asking me to take you clubbing Gammy.’ * Sitting in the departure lounge at Gatwick surrounded by people milling around, either shopping in the Duty Free shops, reading the digital departure board, or sitting bored in the rows of uncomfortable chairs, Misha sat, legs sprawled out, his overhead bag at his feet, a pad. ‘Baby, is your pussy wet? I like when your pussy gets wet for me.’ ‘I’m down there between your thighs, licking the outside of your lips. My tongue is licking you up and down, all around, slowly. I love the way you taste, the way your juices feel on my tongue.’ He is saying this to me and more. My head is spinning. I can actually feel his mouth on my pussy and I’m grinding my pussy against my fingers, faster and faster. My orgasm is building. I can feel it, he can sense it. He tells me that. More

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