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I love the feeling of cool sheets sliding over bare skin. I lay there for ages visualising again and again the events of the morning, my hand playing gently over my body as I did so. Eventually I was drifting off to sleep when I heard Mum and Dad coming upstairs and going into their bedroom. I wondered if Mum had told him about what she'd seen this morning, both about Abi and me right here on this bed, and about her own masturbation session in her bedroom. She probably had. I'd never known them. And the thing that scared me the most was ... Jan was lying next to me.At the moment that I had seen him lying next to me in bed, there went a lot of questions through my head. How did I get here? Where is Doortje? Did Jan and I have sex? What the fuck is going on here!?How hard I tried, I just couldn't remember anything from last night anymore. The last thing I could remember, was that Doortje and I were at the beach, and she was going down on me, I think that I even can remember that she was. (RIP, dear Phil, I still often think of you.) The poems: are by George Gordon, Lord Byron, Alfred Tennyson (not ennobled at the time of this story), and Robert Herrick. Picture of carousel sign. I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it! When the feelings rise up in me, I try. I do try. Mama sees the truth. She gives me a look. I tremble so, for fear she will punish me again, and the feelings come rising up — choking me. I try to look down, modestly, to still my beating heart, to. The wave of release built slowly in Gretchen’s hidden places.She ignored his probing fingers digging relentlessly in the glory of her posterior perfection. It was beneath her dignity to even recognize his exploitation of her most secret assets. She did react quite visibly to his hungry lips rolling her sensitive nipples with little regard for her state of agitation as he speared her feminine channel with total abandon. Her hands on the back of his intriguing locks pushed his head down solidly.
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