I’d only been out of the water seconds, but the chill shocked
me all over again. A thick blue fog of water pressed in at me from all sides,
droning in my ears. The woman’s giant feet kicking chugged heavily from
somewhere behind, like huge rudders.
My whole body was dragged down faster than if I had an iron
ball manacled to me. One of my inflatables slipped off my arm and was lost from
sight. One overlong arm paddled in great sweeps while the other clutched me
close to the torso. I caught flashes of the eye-popping breasts, so
oppressively large they blocked most of my view. Below that, the enormous toned
belly and dark navel. Below that, the long bare legs blurred and darkened into
receded depths. It came through my panic that I might not be dealing with a
totally sane fan.
As I flailed and floundered my arms, the other of my
inflatables slipped off my arm. A burst of speed accompanying a powerful set of
kicks caused my swim shorts to wrench off and disappear into the watery gloom.
Then there was a sense of rotation – the woman tipped her
head up to take a breath, and raised her arm so my face penetrated the surface
alongside. I gulped down air, though I could hold my breath for much longer.
The woman’s hand shifted to grasp me better, but slipped as
she descended again. With quick reflexes her fingers caught at whatever they
could get. It felt like something big and firm snapped around my ankles and
then the world went dim and cloudy blue as I was dragged below, alongside her
body like a mere child’s bath toy.
Another kicking surge, another sweep of the paddling arm,
and I was streaming along underwater backwards by my ankles, and wickedly fast
like I was being dragged by a boat – so fast my body felt like it was
stretching painfully and I could barely tell up from down. The woman was an
accomplished swimmer.
The woman began using both arms to stroke, inadvertently
whipping me back and forth underwater. My body ached as it was wrenched this
way and that, and the sea depths became a quivering blurred shadow world, until
I shut my eyes in solace from the building nausea.
A dark shape passed by, very close. A soft wall brushed
right past me, and on instinct, I pushed my hands out, scrabbling against it.
Then the wall slammed into me, and the fingers clutching my ankles spread,
releasing me so that I found myself unmoored in the depths, with no sense of
direction. Without my inflatables tugging me to surface, my body was suspended
in green limbo.
I kicked towards the light, before my head finally burst out
of the water, sucking in air gratefully.
Only a moment later, huge shadows grew over my body before,
seemingly out of nowhere, a huge object descended on me.
There was a shattering pain in my skull. It felt like two
boxing gloves had punched in on either side of my head at the same time, and
held there fast. The objects were so big their edges crowded around the
perimeter of my vision, blotting out my peripheral sight. Pink grooves
indicated it was a pair of giant fingertips.
Dazed from the blow, my jaw worked furiously as I felt
myself rising up out of the water where the chilled air blew across my naked,
wet body, for a moment too stunned to take a breath.
Then the arm holding me shuddered as if struck. I was
shooting back down into the water, with the pressure still resolutely fixed
around my head. My captor was attempting to dive back under the waves, taking
me with her, my head neatly pincered between forefinger and thumb.
I was hardly able to suck in a breath of air before the
water crashed over my head, bubbling against my face in angry spurts.
I was jerked sideways and then shooting like a rocket in
some unknown direction, pushing through the currents, the water tugging heavily
at all sides, stretching my body. I was limp, couldn’t fight or move against
the tremendous force of momentum. It was like my head had been slammed in a
giant mousetrap which was now being dragged along. The pain circling my skull
in pulsing waves as the fingerpads pressed my head even harder, if possible,
adamant I remain in possession. I clung to my mouthful of air but its value was
continuously trickling away.
The arm whipped up, attached to it by my head, I briefly
rose out of the water before falling back down under the waves.
For another half-minute or so, I was caught in a constant,
unpredictable rollercoaster of movement as to leave me in a state of numbed
shock.
The great arm jerked again, I felt a whip of cool air on my
face, before sinking underwater again within a matter of seconds. Then I slowed
and felt myself turning. What felt like a thick blanket wrapped around my body
and cinched tight, squeezing my precious air out of my lungs, out between my
lips into a stream of bubbles that flew up past my head.
Through a sickly veil of nausea, I realized the anaconda
around my torso was actually a couple of fingertips and a thumb. One of these
pressed on my groin, and as I was pulled and shifted about through the water,
made a sliding rubbing motion up and down over my shaft. As the fingertips
slipped and flexed, my shaft was pulled towards my belly, and then nearly squashed
by an unbearable grinding pressure. I tried to focus on something – anything
else – but it was inescapable; my shaft began to throb sensitively, asking for
relief.
Then I was flying up in the air, upside down. But as my head
was still being pinched, this was unspeakably painful, pulling me in different
directions, until the fingertips around my torso slipped away. My body flipped
around freely in the air, putting strain on my immobile neck. I took a breath
before I was pulled underwater again, and the previous fingertips found me
again as if by sonar, compressing my body once more in their insistent lust for
my possession.
It seemed two titanic figures were struggling in the water,
at the same time trying to claim me. While one retained a solid grip on my
head, I endured the simultaneous feeling of broad flat fingerpads dancing over
my most vulnerable areas. It was like being jostled in a crowd of people. The
thumb continuously massaged my back, sometimes poking my butt, while the
pointer and middle finger shifted around my front, poking my chest and belly,
and brushing back and forth over my crotch.
One of the fingers slipped, running down my stomach, before
attempting to flick back up to its former position, inadvertently scratching a
nail over my front. My long-healed abdominal scar gave a sharp, painful pulling
sensation as if trying to draw inwards for protection. From groin to chest my
entire front was alive, coursing and throbbing with attuned sensitivity.
The offending fingers curled, tucking my into the cushioned
creases of the inner finger joints, squeezing to the point of making me cry out
underwater, losing most of my held breath in a stream of bubbles. Now I could
feel my ribs creaking inwards.
Ah God…! I
thought, willing my thoughts out into the yonder above the water, you’re going to crush me!
Then, all thoughts fled as the fingers against my torso
began to tug me away. For one horrible instant I was moving through the water,
but the manacle was still around my head, my neck pulled at the weight of the
arm capturing me. Then the arm tried to take me back. There was a brief instant
as my muscles strained and screamed, finding myself in the vulnerable, hopeless
position of being pulled at both ends.
My body felt like it was being teased out and caving in at
the same time, my organs getting pressed into paste under the pressure, lungs
and stomach flattening…another second of this and my head would surely be
ripped off…
The water shuddered, as if there was some massive blow and
the dueling grips on my body both released at the same time. Without thinking,
I used my remaining energy to swim to where the light danced, and with my
breath running out, my paddling turned into desperate clawing before I finally came
up to the bright sky for air.
I waded, my limbs spread out, limp, chest heaving and
aching. My ears rang and the sea sounds wavered in and out as if I was still
underwater. Dazed, I scanned the landscape of blue green crests running to
shore. I was still some way off the coast, but too tired to do anything. My
head fell back, neck muscles scrunched and hurt. The sky wheeled around my head
dizzily.
With my face up at the sky, I didn’t see the giant leg come
surging up at me from beneath until it was too late. It smacked into me at full
force, the sea dropped away as I went flying. My stomach collapsed as the world
spun past my eyebrows. The cold air seemed to somersault around my bare body
while I tumbled up, body turning in rapid circles, with no energy or ability to
direct myself.
The spinning slowed at the height of ascent, before my face
turned down towards the water. The forms of the two women awaited directly
below, shifting and butting each other in the water in an anxious bid to
position themselves beneath me. They were gripping each other and
simultaneously trying to shove the other out of the way. Jen seemed to have the
upper hand, with an arm around the woman’s neck and one of the woman’s arms
pulled behind her back, but her head was turned up, her eyes watching my rapid
descent with the hypnotic focus of a determined athlete, but weirdly disconnected,
like I was an object – a spinning ball – and she was a player in some vicious,
winner-take-all sport match. For an instant the tip of her tongue poured out of
her mouth and ran around her lips, licking them with anticipation. I somehow
knew what she was thinking before it happened.
She was going to try and catch me in her mouth, and keep me
locked behind the jail bars of her teeth, where the crazy fan couldn’t get me.
The women grew in size as I dropped through the air, like I
was zooming down a tunnel and their faces were at the end. Jen launched herself
off the woman’s body, springing straight up out of the water like a dolphin, her
mouth opening in preparation as I fretted over the safest way to impact her
tongue – flat? Curled into a ball? – and hoping to God I didn’t smash my head
on her teeth.
At the height of her ascent, right at the last second, the
other woman jammed her elbow against Jen, knocking her sideways. I impacted the
water somewhere between them, the water crashed over my head and pulled me into
it, deep. I began to swim without direction. The giant forms of the women’s
bodies swept around me like giant thrashing mermaids before I lost them, and
they lost me. Then found myself floating, drifting vaguely underwater, and
completed a slow circle around, trying to locate the surface.
I came face to face with Jen, who must have dived in search
of me. Her dual-tone hair streamed behind her and her lips were pursed in
concentration. Her green eyes identified me and widened. Without hesitation she
pulsed through the water at me, long legs pounding behind her.
Relief began to seep throughout my body as I paddled towards
her giant, oncoming face. I was so weak now I felt utterly dependent on her
rescue. I would happily forgive all the rough groping of earlier as long as she
got me safely away from the crazy fan.
Her speed slowed gracefully until she was hovering directly
in front of me. A giant hand swept forward and poked my forehead to tip my head
back, turning me vertical, before lunging forward to press a kiss against my
face, and gripping my head in her lips’ suction, playfully dragging me in her
direction.
Releasing me again, she shot a stream of bubbles into my
face before withdrawing and mouthing ‘I love you’. In case she had trouble
lip-reading my tiny lips, I made a love heart shape with my hands. Then she
extended a finger towards her lips. For one absurd moment I thought she was going
to follow through with the hooking gesture from the fishbowl nightmare I’d had.
Instead, she pointed insistently at her mouth, which pulsed suggestively with a
slurping motion – a silent appeal for me to enter for concealment from the fan.
All the same, my stomach crinkled up with dread, like I’d just had a
premonition.
My response stalled. With impatience, she was already
gliding forwards, her lips parting, preparing to work them around my head and
take me in—
Over her shoulder, something moved. The length of the other
woman’s form darted out of the deep blue, barreling straight into Jen from
behind, a last resort attempt to get the upper hand. She struck with a muted
thud, like distant thunder. Both women jolted forward. Everything was a blur. I
had no time to get out of the way.
The world shattered into disarray. I was racing along with a
current of water, passing through a long dark tunnel, all sense of direction
exploded. Something – a mushy wall – came speeding out of the dark and went
splat into me, jerking me to a stop. To my disgust, the wall appeared to be
somehow porous, containing folds like purse slits, because the force of my
movement pushed my head a little inside
the wall. It was like my head was pushed inside the hole of a damp sponge. For
what seemed like a long time I couldn’t breathe, and frantically tried pushing
against the wall that encased my head, but my hands kept slipping over the
rubbery, frictionless surface.
With one final grunt of effort, I wrenched and my head came
free with a wet pop. I stumbled back, blinking in a pitch black space, my feet
squelching through puddled, spongy floor.
My first thought: I’m
not dead. That brought a rush of such relief that I thought I might cry.
The relief quickly ebbed, leaving behind a building sense of danger. Not
immediate danger, like the situation I had just escaped from, but something
uncertainly menacing, like kayaking over a river that might be filled with
piranhas.
The wet spongy ceiling was low. Crawling on my hands and
knees, I patted the ground for direction. It was mushy like the wall I’d
impacted, with rubbery crevices I could fit my arm into. Water pooled around my
ankles and it was difficult to move without accidentally plunging a hand or
foot into the rubbery, porous folds, so I stayed in one place.
A steady beating sound came from above, throbbing through
the walls. The cadence was unmistakable: it was a giant heartbeat. The blood
started running out of my face. I must have been swallowed and was now sitting
inside the soft surrounding anatomy of Jennifer’s stomach.
A wet guttural sound filled the air, like a dog barking, and
my skull hammered with every blast. With a jolt I realized it was the sound of
Jen coughing, the sound amplified and bassy due to the size difference and the
fact I was hearing it resounding down her esophagus and echoing inside the pit
of her gut.
“JERRY…”
Her voice throbbed around the stomach lining like a cave
echo. I slapped my hands against my ears as her voice drummed through my head.
“I’m here!” I shouted as loud as I could, cringing at how my
tiny voice echoed.
“HANG ON, BABY!”
As the deafening sound surged down the throat towards me, I
covered my ears and sunk my head down into the porous folds of the stomach
lining in an attempt to further mute the painful sound.
Some kind of liquid came spilling down, splattering onto my
head, disgustingly bitter. I gagged as it ran down my face, then waded over to
a section of the stomach wall, a mass of furrowed flesh, and in desperation,
began punching and kicking the spongy folds. The problem was, the flesh was so
soft and moist the blows didn’t strike, but sunk in deep. If the stomach wall
had been taut, like an ear drum, the beating might have made an impact, but as
the flesh absorbed the impact, it probably did little good.
Another load of bitter liquid spattered over my head.
The calm was interrupted by a groaning sound, and then the
stomach walls began to convulse, stirring up squishing, splashing sounds,
quickly transforming the space into a bubbling cauldron.
I jumped up with terror as the warm air began transforming
into a sauna. The walls of the stomach were clenching and jiggling, causing
puddles of fluid to froth like a bubble bath, and the bubbly froth was slowly
climbing the walls, creeping up over my face until I was lost in it. It got in
my eyes and was accidentally sucked up my nose. Coughing and wading, I fanned
my hands, anxiously trying to clear the screen of fizz – bitterly scented with
whatever liquid had spilled down.
The stomach’s jiggling turned into powerful flexing motions,
sweeping the fluid around in a whirling vortex. Not only did this whip up more
froth, but sucked me into a powerful eddy of bitter stomach juices which were
starting to make my skin tingle and burn. The building maelstrom spun me and
tipped me around under the froth. My head jabbed into another porous fold,
became wedged there, and as I kicked and flailed, squelched free again.
Completely disoriented, I accidentally breathed in more burning, acrid froth,
making me feel like my body was being gnawed at from inside out. Flicked around
and turned upside down, blood raced into my head. The blackness was
all-encompassing, entering my head, I was about to black out…
More bitter liquid spouted down onto my face and then the
stomach compacted inward violently, the interior pressure became too much, and
I was shooting upwards like toothpaste being squeezed out of the tube, gargling
and squirming—
I burst into the world as naked and dazed as a newborn baby,
riding a spray of bitter liquid and thumping onto a towel.
I wiped my eyes and found dark liquid running off my body,
before the towel humped on either side and enfolded me, rubbing me up and down
vigorously, rolling me over, scrubbing me, and rolling me again. Powerless to
resist it, I relaxed, letting the powerful motions flip and massage me about.
Finally the heaps of towel lifted, and I was staring up at
Jen, who was leaning over me. She was sweating and blanched – positively ill
looking – and panting. Later I learned she had drained ipecac she kept in her
bag and stuck her finger down her throat to induce herself to vomit. The ipepac
made her look feverish, but five minutes later she was back to normal.
The edges of the towel lifted, rose into the air and landed
on Jen’s lap. I was again set upon between two towel-covered walls, rolled and
rubbed back and forth, and too exhausted to resist, let myself be flipped
around and around between her towel-covered palms as they feverishly worked me like
a twig and she was trying to rub a fire into ignition until my skin was
practically red raw.
Finally, I gasped for a breath, pushing against her palms, and
she stopped, dropping me back into her lap. One hand slid out of the towel and
cupped around me protectively, her fingers running over my chest for my
heartbeat – even as she didn’t realize she was doing it – pushing under my
armpit and probing around my neck for the reassuring throb of an artery. Her
thumb must have found it, it remained buried under my jaw, stroking my neck.
“DID YOU…” Natalie’s voice floated over, sounding shaky, as
her footsteps thumped down in the sand nearby, “DID YOU JUST…” She seemed to be
silently begging Jennifer to interrupt her with a flat denial. But when the
other just pinned her with a defiant ‘yup’ look, she clapped a hand over her
mouth and took a step back, the whites of her eyes too visible.
“OH MY GOD!”
“WHOA,” came Grant’s voice, an understated deadpan. “OKAY THEN.”
The sunset was like melted gold on the water, and the surrounding
beach was going dark. People were leaving the water. No one else seemed to have
realized what had just happened. I blinked across the shoreline, looking for
the woman, but she was nowhere in sight. She must have swum away when Jen got
out of the water.
*
“The whole time I’ve been at Tiferno,” I said. “I’ve never
come across crazy like that.”
My reverse
passage up Jen’s digestive tract had put a prompt end to the easy mood of the afternoon.
After a quick goodbye, Natalie and Grant had returned to their car, the
former’s cheeks blanched as if she’d swallowed a bottle of ipecac herself and
was thinking of mimicking the act.
Now we
drove under the night sky. No booster seat; Jen’s thighs were acting as my
harness. I stared into the darkness beneath the steering wheel, while she
navigated the streets leading back home.
“Now I see
why you stay here. You like crazy,” I finally said, under my breath. She still
heard me.
“NO
KIDDING. I LIKE YOU.”
I scoffed. Touché.
“You don’t
want to move. But I’ve always wanted to leave the Bay. Now you see why?” I was referring to my
pre-shrink plans, which I’d contemplated up to the GPR party.
“AM I NOT
ALLOWED TO CHANGE MY MIND?” she said smoothly.
“The
problem is, your mind changes like a traffic light. A lot.”
“I’M ALSO
RUNNING A LOT MORE TRAFFIC THROUGH MY MIND THAN YOU ARE, PIPSQUEAK.”
I went
quiet. Satisfied, she let the silence settle in.
The scent
of her sex – just behind me – was starting to thicken over my face, clinging
almost like a wet blanket. The earlier insertion had triggered her womanly
glands to start drooling in hunger for me. She had a particular scent; spicy,
foreign, dominating. It speared up my nostrils and into my brain with
unavoidable suggestion. Whether or not she could help it, my unexpected tour of
her stomach must have enlivened her kink. Maybe she was savoring the phantom
sensations of my punching and kicking around in there, and head poking into the
membranous folds, like some weird stomach massage from within – savoring the
memory even as we spoke.
“Hey,” I
piped up.
The plush
muscles gave me a squeeze of acknowledgement.
“TALK TO
ME, CUTIE.”
“Think I
might invite Natalie to the wedding. Actually…I already have.”
“OOH…OKAY,”
she said simply.
“Not a problem?”
“I DON’T
KNOW. IS THERE?”
“No. I mean…Just
thought you’d want to know.”
Her thighs
gave me another reassuring squeeze, which made my tired out muscles twinge.
“YOU DON’T
NEED MY PERMISSION FOR THAT. I MEAN, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I ASKED YOU FOR
PERMISSION FOR ANYTHING?”
She had a
point there.
My eyelids
grew heavier and began to drop. The car jerked and swerved, a car horn blared
very closeby. My eyelids cracked open again.
She made a
small, tutting gasp. Her thighs clapped into my ribs like a mousetrap, and then
grinded against my body with vicious friction as her foot tapped the break a
few times. Air whistled out of my lungs as they deflated like balloons.
“YOU SAW
THAT, RIGHT?!” Then she remembered. “OH.” Her thighs mercifully loosened again.
“DOESN’T MATTER; I’LL GIVE YOU THE SHORT VERSION: THAT GUY WAS AN ASSHOLE.”
I let out a
long, steady breath. Any more of that and I was going to end up pasted around
her inner thighs like paint.
As the car
engine filled my head, my eyelids began to fall again.
“SORRY,”
she said, calming. “IF YOU WANT TO THROW UP BECAUSE OF HIM, I WON’T BLAME YOU.
JUST GIVE ME THE WARNING FIRST, AND I’LL HOLD YOU OUT THE WINDOW.”
It was not
my stomach, but my mind that was stirring with unrest.
“What was
it like?” I said suddenly.
“WHAT?”
“Me being
in your stomach.”
“WHY DO YOU
WANT TO KNOW?”
She was
smiling.
“Why wouldn’t I want to know? How many
people get that experience?”
She
laughed.
“’GET THAT
EXPERIENCE’? LISTEN TO YOU. MY STOMACH LINING HAS NEVER BEEN GRACED BY SUCH
CELEBRITY.”
I rolled my
head against her leg.
“You know
what I mean. Just answer the question.”
She
answered in a low, pensive voice:
“NOT WHAT I
THOUGHT.”
“What do
you mean?”
“I COULDN’T
TELL YOUR HEAD FROM YOUR COCK. SO THERE’S THAT.”
“You liked
it, or not?”
“WHEN YOU’RE
IN MY MOUTH,” she began, “I CAN SUCK YOU, CURL YOU UP, FLIP YOU AROUND, MAKE
YOU DO TRICKS. WHATEVER I WANT, BASICALLY. YOU’RE JUST A SOFT SQUISHY LITTLE TOY
IN THERE, AND YOU DO WHAT MY TONGUE TELLS YOU. IT’S FUN AS FUCK, THAT’S WHAT
I’M SAYING.”
“And me
being in your stomach is not.”
“DOES IT
MATTER? YOU’D NEVER GO BACK, ANYWAY.”
“Just
asking.”
She was quiet
for a long time. And then, suddenly she was talking again, as if she’d never
stopped:
“YOU WERE
TOO FAR AWAY. KINDA SCARY EVEN. BUT IN MY MOUTH…IT’S SO INTIMATE.” Her voice
acquired a kind of moan as if she was talking about a favorite dessert. “MORE
THAN A HUG. MORE THAN SEX. GOD, I FEEL YOU ALL OVER MY TONGUE. AND YOU’RE
INSIDE MY HEAD, AND I HEAR YOU LIKE YOU’RE INSIDE MY BRAIN. ANY CLOSER AND YOU WOULD BE
ME.” She added, now exhilarated: “SO HOW MANY PEOPLE GET THAT EXPERIENCE?”
“You got me
there.”
“YUP. I GOT YOU ALRIGHT.”
A hand
descended and gave my skull a soft squeeze, waking me up a little, and staying
there to comb through my hair and tweak my ears.
“EVER
WISHED YOU WERE ME?” she casually inquired.
I gave a
small spurt of laughter.
“Can’t say
I have.”
“LIKE, ROLE
REVERSAL.”
“No, no,
and no.”
“GOOD
ANSWER. WE’RE ON THE SAME TEAM, JERRY.”
“We’re
getting married,” I said obviously.
“THAT IS
ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. ANOTHER GOOD ANSWER.”
“Is this
Team Mousseau, or Team Tomlin?”
“NO, NO,
THIS IS TEAM JERRY FITS IN JENNIFER’S HAND.”
“Wait,” I
interrupted. “I didn’t say anything about us not being the same size.”
Her hand
lifted from my head, returning to grip the steering wheel.
Without any
warning, she pulled the car over in a shaded strip, and with the engine shut
off, put me down on the passenger seat.
She took
out some liquid hand soap from her bag and used a tissue to wipe me down.
“What are
you doing?” I said.
“I FORGOT
TO CLEAN YOU EARLIER.”
“Can’t it
wait until home?”
“I BELIEVE
THIS IS TOTALLY DESERVED SINCE I SAVED YOUR LIFE.”
She was still
only wearing the bikini, and was now anxiously undoing the strings at her waist.
My body was
grasped up and swooped down again. She stretched and shifted over the seat,
with wide open legs, plunging me into the puffy glistening lips for a drawn out
French kiss, with my body as the tongue, slipping into her purse. The passage
was already so wet it was like being eagerly slurped in, and I was in pitch
blackness in an instant, my body completely out of sight again. She restarted
the car and resumed the drive, meanwhile, my lungs pulled at the air, my
muscles beginning to wring and stretch.
The passage
was a threshold marking the transition my body made from independent person to
throbbing organ working synchronously with the great machinery of her sexual
anatomy, every muscle in my body worked throughout the drawn out rise and fall.
Like a factory it was noisy, steamy, every surface was oozing oily lubricant. the
pelvic floor pistoning in and out against me like collapsing walls, causing the
ribbed fleshy sleeve of her tunnel to pull tight around until I was stiff as
wood.
My face got
caught in one of the shallow pockets of ribbed fleshy folds, like the segment
of a scrunchy tube, and the contracting muscle walls became a rock-hard,
migraine inducing helmet. Glandular run off sweated along the walls, had began
to pool in the fold and squelched around my ears, trapping my head in what felt
like a rubbery moisture filled bag. She was running like a leaking faucet, every
rapid contraction splashed and dunked my head around the sweating puddle. As I
coughed and gasped for air, more of it surged down my throat.
Her back
arched, and butt drove hard into the seat as she came.
“SOOO NICE,” she moaned.
All my
sensory organs were drowned in her sexual organ, so I had no idea whether she
was still driving, or had pulled over the side of the road, or was home, parked
in the garage, or even, was back inside the house. It didn’t make much
difference; I spent much of the rest of the night wholly embedded in the
bewitching, pitch black, anti-gravity chamber that was her pelvic crypt. The
post-climactic twitches made my muscles ripple and pull at random. Then she
felt me touching her, somewhere deep and out of sight between her hipbones, and
decided to go again.