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I had partaken far too heavily from the offers of the bar which I had stumbled into after that night’s ordeal. I felt the effects of the libations I had consumed in the drumbeat that was my head, sitting on the edge of the bed only to force my eyes open and see that it was already afternoon, a chilling effect like that of a cold shower forcing me back to reality. I spent what little remaining time in preparation, like a condemned man watching the clock, the seconds flying like minutes, the minutes turning into hours until I found myself hailing a cab, not trusting my own legs to support me on the journey to my appointed execution. Once again I was greeted by the gregarious figure that was the director, his eyes shining though his breath carried the distinct aroma of brandy. ‘Come along my good man, we have prepared a place just for you and your lady in waiting.’ From there he half marched me toward a separate tent, away from the masses, carefully assuring that no one took notice, a. She was very wet, more so than me. I felt around in the attempt to find her G-spot. I knew when I did because she let out a very distinct moan. I used both my fingers to caress that one spot. Once again, I noticed her breaths louder and shallower, her chest rising and falling more rapidly; her body shaking every so often. Her breaths kept pace with my fingers and they got increasingly faster. And out of nowhere, she let out a soft squeal and fell backwards and laid on the bed. Her legs were shaking and her arms were grasping the sheets. I felt warm juices running down my fingers, more prevalent than before. She let out one last heavy breath, and subsided. I heard her say, “that was the best one I have ever had,” as I was look at the wetness on my fingers. I had always thought that I became more wet than any other girl, but my sister proved me wrong. There was a wet spot on the bed, and on my fingers, there was a white creamy substance mixed with clear juices. Damn.I showed her my.
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