I scrunched up as small as I could, but I was already so close to the wall that I couldn't pull away from his hand without making it clear that I was ...ntirely awake, not just shifting in my sleep. I lay still, hoping he would roll over and leave me alone. A moment later, I felt his fingers slip under the waist of my pajama bottoms, and then he was sliding his hand under the sidestrap of my panties to rest on my hip.I muttered incoherently and tried to push him away -- but vaguely, still faking. And some of you will be thinking, 'but Cummies, I'm not a wife, I'm a burly, hirsute, truck driver born on the wrong side of the tracks in one of those truly awful Medway towns in North Kent, (Garden of England my arse) are you saying that I am less important than you?' Well of course you're less important than me in so many different ways, sweetie, but really the questions you should be asking yourself are: Am I a wife? If not why not? And what do I do to join this most sacred of living. As he found her waist, he grabbed hold of her and pulled her even closer, and Tara shuddered as his warm breath blew softly across her neck. Danny waited until he thought enough of the dance crowd hid the two of them from prying eyes at their table, then started placing little kisses on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, reveling in the drunkenness and wanton abandonment of the situation. It was a huge turn-on, and she knew she was starting to get wet. As the song set wound down, she. Feeling a little wicked herself, Ally had agreed.To the strands of “Pretty Woman” they had danced. Touching and swaying to the music, Ally and Ling had been followed by every eye in the place -- both male and female. More an erotic ballet than just a dance, it was a celebration of two beautiful women totally into each other. Ally’s heart still raced when she thought of each time that Ling’s hand had touched her. She still remembered the soft brush of her long black hair, the sweet smell of her.
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