She was finding excuses to touch me as much as I was.I must mention I was in a serious relationship too at that point, but this was turning me on more...than I had imagined. She was holding the tip of my middle finger and playing with it between her fingers casually while we were talking.“So, I wanna know more about the attention you have me the night after the party,” she said, breaking my trance.“Well, I had good reason” I winked (or something less stupid)“What reason?”“I don’t know. Right now. Large, firm hands. A man's hands. Familiar hands. Not to me, obviously, but to her. I know this routine. Usually its the umpteenth asshole boyfriend, but no - these aren't some dumbass teenager's hands, not even those of some shithead college jock. This guy's way older, so that means the truth is far more sour still - he's a relative, I bet. Some fucker she's trusted, once. That's painful. The cacophony of emotions begins to make a little more sense to me. There's that quivering strand of. I can usually hear the bedroom door open but not worth the risk getting caught, so early in the story. So I asked da to go back to her room. She was rather unwilling, but reluctantly followed me to her door. Her bra was still open so my hands automatically were groping there, then I bent to kiss her on the lips, and again she moved her face. I asked her why? Then I know, she replied that she didn’t know how to. Hehehe so cute, so fresh. I said it is okay, abang will teach you okay? She smiled. Beautiful. Insanely, insurmountably and paradoxically beautiful. She was everything and nothing, a perfect and supreme being whose allure was outweighed only by the sheer pleasure he knew she could bestow upon him. Tyler groaned to look at her. The perfect contours of her face, highlighted by the soft glow of the candle she held in one delicate hand, upraised before her as a holy symbol of beauty. She was his light, the only thing he could ever bear to see again in his miserable existence. She.
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