It would help if you wore a helmet.”“The Heights are so cold in the winter, nobody wears helmets. Not ones made out of metal, anyway.”“We’re...not in the Heights anymore.”“I’ll think about it,” she said. She wasn’t ready to mention the other reason—a helmet would cut down on her peripheral vision too much. She’d only mentioned flying the storms to Treya, and she wasn’t sure the other woman realized that it involved actual flying. Now that her dream was so close, she couldn’t bring herself to tell. I scoot my butt against you again hoping to feel the bulge I know is there. When I do, I start to almost imperceptibly rock back against you, making a slight friction. I feel your hands gently squeezing my breasts to the same rhythm. A minute later I feel you pull away and your right hand disappears behind my back. I realize you are unbuttoning your jeans – you release the swollen head of your penis and with your thumb you wipe the drop of semen off the tip. Pressing me against you once again. More

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