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For a full half-century we lay there on the bed, using our lips, our tongues, our fingers, our toes, the instep of our feet and anything else we had to touch each other with. Our hands, gripped so tightly together at times that in the morning my knuckles ached, spent what time they weren't together down between our legs. Our legs wrapped around each other like strands of hair in a braid
When things grew really intense, we ended up sideways on the bed, feet dangling off one side, our heads off the other. I spent minutes--long luxurious minutes--sucking each of her breasts. I delivered them both gorgeous twin hickeys.
As I did this, the middle finger of someone's hand slipped up my aching vagina, and the middle finger of her other hand went up my behind. Together, they laid claim to my entire insides. I felt we were eight-tentacled like an octopus.
The rest belongs to Jennifer and myself and, if she wants to tell you about it she can. I will not. Suffice it to say, however, that the two things I whispered into her ear that night, well, she liked these two things a lot and a whole lot more.
And yes, we do now share a room together, just not in the White House.
THE END
Note to the reader: If you are wondering about the Wentworth, Ohio business, I was reading the Stephen King/Richard Bachman book "The Regulators" at the time that I wrote this story. It fit in kinda neat, so I thought I'd stick it in.
End of Part Two of Story Posting (2 of 2 parts) "Orientation Day"
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