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Having said that, even she, the self-proclaimed whore, was not guaranteed to spread her legs to everyone. And I, without doubt, would not be the one granted to thrust between them – our social circles never crossing. So, instead, I thrust into my hand, already feeling the tension in my testicles. Sweat was leaving my body once again. Apparently, peeking in on partially clothed beauties was no way to cool off.Another harmless squeak from downstairs (the wood of the house, expanding and contracting) caused my thoughts to turn to my position once again. A great deal of time must have passed already, and every second that ticked by increased the chance of being caught. With some disappointment, I released my penis from my grasp and took one last look at the girls before taking my inevitable trip back to bed. As I watched, Emma slid towards the door a little then twisted back to face her friends, before pushing herself onto her knees and laying face down on the floor. As she lowered, I. But rather a warm, pleasant fire that I will stoke and nourish, and it in turn will stoke and nourish you. Will you let me plant that fire within you?" Oh, that sounded wonderful. No expectations. No driving towards some goal. Just a warm, pleasant fire. Yes, I would very much like you to plant that within me. "As the fire burns, it will lead us to where you need to go. We will listen to the fire and it will tell us. Will you listen?" I closed my eyes and nodded, captivated by your trance-like voice. "Remember, Sara. This is for me and for me alone. It is your gift to me." My gift to you? Before I had worked out your meaning you whispered, "Turn over on your stomach." I responded automatically. I had decided to trust you in this, even though my loins were still congested with disappointment. You laid your palm at the base of my spine. Your hand was rough. A man's hand. And even though your skin was rough your touch was warm and tender. I remembered what you had asked and focused on.
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