Feel our aching, Molly. Feel the trembling or our thighs, the quivering of secret places. Gulps of breaths coming in synch; my exhale becomes the air ...ou inhale. Intoxicating. My hands in your hair, your hand on my face, our knees touching, thighs opening on their own needing what is coming.”Soft little moans escaped my mouth, and I hoped they were too light to be heard. My fingers rubbed and flicked over my clit. I was losing this battle, and another wave of guilt washed over me. My voice. I was out in the yard making the best of a bad sprinkler system earlier in the day when this melodic voice over my shoulder said hello. The woman had a smooth tone, an octave or two lower than most women. Sultry would have been an accurate description. I was digging in the dirt and sweating over a particularly difficult repair but I turned my head to try and see who was speaking. I caught the slightest glimpse of dark brown hair and muttered 'just a second, I have to tighten this fitting'. I. More

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