His closes were in a heap behind the door with my clothes and we now were holding each other in the water. ‘Are you sure, Claire?’ he asked again... ‘You are sweet, but I’m okay. I need to learn some things. I want to learn some things. I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to.’ He ran his hands down my back and looked at my breasts. He had seen them lots of times, from me flashing passing cars when we waited for a cab after prom the year before and we were pissed drunk from Coby Letterman’s. Fortunately brave — and kind — souls would follow the ice water with hands in an endeavour to warm up my suddenly frozen boobs and cunt. With the souls of both my feet and my shoulders the only part of my body in contact with the table I arched my body as hands and fingers began to massage my tits either through or beneath my now very transparent T-shirt while more fingers slid beneath my wet and cold and equally transparent G-string."Ooh gawd," I giggled, "it was cold before," I thrust my hips. More

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