Luckily more people squeeze on to replace those who got off, and soon we are pressed into the corner again. Without hesitation this time, your fingers burrow back inside my jeans, past my panties and through my bush straight into my sloppy wet slit. Holding your hand still, you push your fingers in and out. It is lucky that the sound of the tube drowns out the squish, squish, squish, of your fingers. My breath starts to come in short gasps. I can feel a dribble of my pussy juices running down my inner thigh, caused by your flickering fingers. Flushing, I press my face into your shoulder and breathe into your neck. I am whimpering under my breath as I feel myself losing control, my legs starting to tremble. Your fingers are now circling over my clit, rolling over the soft folds of flesh, knowing exactly how to take me with you. I push back against your fingers, totally forget where I am, let myself go, feel my orgasm welling up from deep inside me. I feel as if I’m going to take. I pushed my cart outside and was happy when Dad asked Mom to go with him to get the car. That made it clear to me that she really was loaded for bear and Dad was doing his best to prevent a full-scale war from breaking out before we even got in the car. I believed he knew it was inevitable, though I hadn’t told him much about my year in Sweden, I had told him that YFU was trying to fix what Mom did. I had no idea what he might have assumed from that or what he might have said to Mom.From Mom’s reaction, I couldn’t tell for sure, but if she called me the Prodigal Son, she might think she was successful, and I was coming back repentant. Of course, knowing my mom, she probably only barely understood the story and was referring to the Prodigal’s immoral lifestyle before he came back without thinking about repentance. That was something that had always amused me. I wasn’t particularly religious, but I knew the stories and the theology far better than Mom did.They returned with the car and.
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