Serah gasped. “Do you want this?” I asked, as my finger pressed a little more firmly against that little knot of hers, and my imagination broadcast what it was she should answer. xxx 18 Weird.”
Had she just picked up on my little daydream? At the same time as I spoke, I imagined fiercely that she didn’t want me to go. She was wearing a denim skirt that buttoned up the side, only coming down to mid-thigh, and a light flannel shirt in blues and reds. I closed the distance between us and swiftly started unbuttoning her denim skirt, too, getting it off in half the time it took her to manage the shirt. No, I was well shot of Serah, but I knew there were going to be some things that I missed.




















