I could feel the moisture on her fingertips as she ran her nails over my back. Two columns of alabaster in the moonlight shining through the glass of ...he elevator. My hands cupped her buns as our sexes kissed. The crinkle of our pubic hairs meeting sounded like newspaper being crumpled. Our lips met again. Her hands caressed my skin and my own roamed over her back. She took my hands in hers and held them against the elevator door, my arms stretched above my head. Her hands moved to my wrists,. Sometimes when I'd give her a hug, I'd be sure of it. She was chief among my illusionary women and an active masturbation fantasy. Her dark-eyed serious stare was often interpreted by me as representing her knowledge of my unbridled lust. Of course, that made it all the juicier.Back to the story: Once Sally and I were sitting together in her living room. Actually, she was sitting on my lap as I sat in a large, over-stuffed chair as we often did. We'd been whispering and engaging in some low. More

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