No matter; Karen and the boys waited safe at home for me. They spent part of the Christmas of 1990 in Montreal. I never knew why until now. I remember...Kevin talking excitedly about being in a strange city and the two girls, Simone and Suzan, sisters. No mention was made of anyone else, and a not quite six-year-old was not clear on a poor phone connection from the other side of the world. I told Karen I loved her every chance I got, but it wasn’t often and apparently it was not enough, although. You’re working me into a frenzy. You clearly know what you’re doing, giving me your tongue slowly then quickly, dancing across then circling, barely touching then firmly. You give a slow, broad lick up my slit and across my clit and then leave me with no contact at all but your hands pinning my legs in position. I open my eyes and look down at you, finding you waiting for my gaze. We lock eyes and you still don’t move. “Please,” I moan in barely more than a whisper.“Please what?” you respond. More

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