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"With that, we began a second kiss. This one spilled into a series of kisses and I began running my hands up and down her back. In the short pause between two kisses, Lynn looked at me, eyes half lidded."Slower with the hands, John." Oh." I promptly yanked them up to her shoulder blades."No, not higher. Slower. It's a dance, John. You want to find the rhythm your partner responds best to and touch her at that speed and pressure."I slowly slid my hand down her back, varying the speed. Lynn sighed as I did, exaggerating it enough for me to catch on. Sighs that were more like moans were good. Shallow sighs meant the wrong speed or pressure. Similarly, the passion in her kisses correlated to the touch of my hands on her body. I paused, my hands on the top of her hips, and kissed her deeply. As she returned the kiss, I edged my hands down until I was cupping her ass. Lynn let out a long moan that didn't seem as exaggerated as some of the early ones. She pulled her head back and grinned at. I imagine him breathing in my ear, driving me mad with need. He adds another finger, touching me everywhere and I gasp. I press against my clit and glide down, making myself more wet. He’d want to feel it. He would want to know how wet he was making me, and would hold off no longer. The tip of my middle finger presses against my firm opening and forces it’s way in. I groan and slide my finger inside. My muscles grip my extremity tightly, glad to have some form of friction. I start a rhythm, in and out, with excruciating slowness. The sensation in my groin sparks like a fire and I go faster. Suddenly, the face behind my lids changes from a dimpled smile to a darker, sexier image. Ethan’s face flickers through my mind and I moan loudly. I recall the first time I realized how green his eyes were, his face between my thighs, his dark hair in a graceful disarray. I remember how he bent me over the kitchen island and fucked me until I screamed his name. I remember recognizing the.
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