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I sat on my favourite window seat and contemplated the view. It seemedgone forever where those white snowbound Christmases of my earlychildhood. I watched a few crows and rooks battling the wind andscratching in the fields for food. 'They wouldn't find much at this timeof year,' I thought and shivered as I tightened my peignoir around me.'Any minute now,' I thought, 'the thunder of familiar feet would arrive'.I slipped back into bed to savour the warmth under the duvet and waited.Eventually, I heard a few muffled voices on the landing and then thechildren burst through the door. It was nice to savour the old times withjust the two of them and me. 'Them' however, were bouncing withexcitement and keen to try out the presents that 'Aunty' Elizabeth hadbought. After a quick cuddle they disappeared and later I spotted thefour of them playing in the field. They had obviously forgone breakfastto use the wind and fly their kites. Within minutes, four brightly coloured trespassers contrasted. Each muscle was straining. My toes were digging down into the floor of the tub as I pressed myself forward to my shower head. Then it was too much, my pussy started to quake. I bent my spread knees and pushed my hungry peach forward, thrusting. I grunted as the wave of relief that flowed through me was sweet, but it left me still aching and now desperate. I had an empty honey pot there between my legs, and it needed filled. I stuck a finger into that gash. The outside was dripping from all the water pouring on it. The inside was wet and slippery but thick, clinging to my fingers, even as I pulled them back out before plunging again into the snug, soft interior. Velvet walls hugged my finger as I slipped it in, and out, pushing it deeper and deeper into my box. This was heavenly, but still I wanted more. Another finger slipped beside the first, now there were two fingers sliding in, and out. I whimpered a little as I rammed them deep into me. It still wasn't enough. Those fingers.
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