Try not to cry. Just continue with your story for now. We can talk about your parents later," Mary told her."I knew something was wrong. I rushed down...stairs to see what had happened. I don't remember what I said. I know I was screaming. I could see Jim in the living room, and the emotions hit me like a brick wall. I fell to the floor. I couldn't get up. I crawled over to him. He was soo sad. I couldn't stand it. I grabbed him some how, and we cried together for a time. I don't know how. Impulses fire from there, lighting the rest of my body. The hair on my neck stands on end as my circles increase in intensity and my clit peeks further from its hiding place, eager to be fingered directly. It appears I'm not the only one touching myself. Francesca is now openly rubbing her crotch for her guest. Her head tips back against the glass, legs akimbo as her arm jiggles with the strokes to her centre. In my head, he's telling me -- her -- what to do. "Finger yourself, Francesca. Your. More

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