It had been a long time. I fingered my clit, slick with a mixture of my own hot juice and what was left of Michael’s lucky shot into my snatch. Very...wet. I squirmed my hips as he thrust into me, milking his rigid cock with my cunt muscles. His cock got harder, longer…he wasn’t going to last long at this rate… I scooped up some of the slippery mixture he had reamed out of me and reached back to smear it around my crinkly asshole, hoping he would get the idea that there were other places he might. "You're not, like, depressed or anything? Youdon't get out, you don't eat much, you don't take care of yourself... I'dhate to come home and find you'd taken a bath with the toaster orsomething, you know?" I'm fine, Holly, really," I replied in a weak attempt at reassurement.In all honesty it was not just possible, but entirely probable that I wassuffering from depression. More than once I'd considered taking myself tothe GP and asking about anything to help my mood, but that would. More

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