Then I turned downhill again.The difference was like night and day. My edges bit as I carved my turns and I quickly found my rhythm. The years seemed ...o melt away and I felt like I was back in Montana again, skiing with Dad. I whipped by other skiers, going so fast that most were just blurs. Ulrike’s carbon-braced skis hissed on the packed snow.Their edges bit deeper and better than the cheap skis I was used to. I felt invincible. I finally saw Ulrike’s distinctive aquamarine jacket. I thought. Please do it again. He chuckled and instead ran his hands down her ribs to her hips. She trembled as his fingers flitted around her clit without actually making contact. Tell me what you have done to yourself, he demanded. I have made myself climax, Father. How? By rubbing my clit and by sticking my fingers inside of me. How many fingers? Two, Father. He chuckled. Only two? No more? No, Father. I needed no more than that. Hmm. He placed one hand on her inner thigh. Then Im going to bet youre. More

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