He rested his body against hers, one hand slowly working its way up her inner thigh until it hit the edge of her pants. His other hand massaged the outside edge of her breast. With his weight pushing against her diaphragm she struggled to draw breath, his mass trapping her against the ground, her growing asphyxiation, sense of helplessness and his domination fuelling her desire.His hand reached the junction between her legs, palm pushing against the folds of flesh through her delicate underwear, the fine fabric quickly dampening under his touch. Finding the lacy edge with his fingertips, he slipped under the elastic, heading towards the source of the rapidly expanding moisture.He slid his fingertips over the small ridge of flesh into the damp valley inside. She groaned and moved her hands feverishly from his back, borrowing her hands between their bodies in search of his belt buckle. Her fingers had none of the teasing dexterity he possessed and she failed to release his buckle. She. Not that there were any likely candidates anyway in the neighbourhood, he mused. But he had been extra wary, given the forbidding atmosphere of outrage chez-Whitmore about the existence of Fifi. He considered it worthwhile to be on his best behaviour if only to have his mother fulminate at one of his siblings rather than himself, for a change.Anyway, the recent vivid memories of a delightful and unexpected afternoon of bliss with the lovely Meg and her lascivious friend Betty were more than sufficient to necessitate any required relief in the privacy of his bedchamber.On returning home, there had been no word from Meg. Mind you, he pondered, taking another mouthful of expertly distilled spirit, he had not really expected to hear from her so soon, although that would have been pleasantly distracting. As far as he knew, she and Betty had temporarily gone their separate ways. This was unsurprising, as their livelihoods and direction tended to be dependent on the whims of any current.
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