My fingers have memories of their own. Slowly at first they move against the tender flesh between my legs. I move my feet up onto the table and slide ...own into my chair. The fall air does its part to seduce me, again blowing cool over me. A spasm makes my clit tuck in and I feel my breath come quicker as my fingers move to the rhythm that my body wants. My other hand has continued to grasp and caress each breast, the fullness more pronounced the nipples hard. We finished our dessert and walked. What I like is her ability to soar into an activity and to radiate and share the bliss she feels. And it seemed to me that we had never been happier together. Certainly we made love a lot, like honeymooners. That experience on the massage mat was something we repeated. Diana would say “fuck my cheeks!” and I would know what she wanted. I suppose that it was strange that the firehouse photos ended up on the wall of our bedroom, but nobody ever gets into our bedroom, so it’s not embarrassing. . More

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