She stood there for me to see."Here I come, Russell," she said as she crawled up on the bed and lay down beside me."Touch me, Russell, touch me all ov...r. Feel me everywhere. I want your hands all over me."Her skin was like silk, so soft, warm, I ran my hands all over her, over her breasts, so firm, but with a softness underneath, nipples hard like little pebbles, down her stomach, up over her mound, then my hand cupping down between her legs as she opened them for me. There was moisture along. I was very bad in those days at picking it up when someone admired me, rather like the heroine of my story. Only much later did I realise that my friend was one of many admirers. (RIP, dear Phil, I still often think of you.) The poems: are by George Gordon, Lord Byron, Alfred Tennyson (not ennobled at the time of this story), and Robert Herrick. Picture of carousel sign. I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it! When the feelings rise up in me, I try. I do try. Mama sees the. More

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