But, almost of its own volition, her hand dropped lower and began to search gently in the swelling folds of her pulsating vagina. Her ringer brushed against the tiny erogenous knob of her clitoris and she gasped at the electrical shock of the unexpected contact. A twinge of guilt prodded at her conscience… memories of the childhood warning instilled in her that to touch oneself there was evil, dirty… but the incredible hunger, borne of years of frustration would brook no sidestepping, and she began to trace the hot, throbbing lips of her vagina, swollen to fleshiness, with her ringers. Her fingertips glided over the slippery flesh of her inner folds, and slid toward the clasping, viscous opening. Her breathing was ragged and a series of sensual visions tumbled about in her head and she felt swept along in the increasing erotic frenzy that she was conjuring up in her mind. She raised up her knees to afford her probing fingers greater access to her burning vagina and she began to thrust her finger into the moistness of her vaginal orifice. Her loins were hot, and her head was spinning with the strength of her overwhelming need. With a savage mewl, she sunk her finger into the inflamed opening. The warm fleshy walls closed in ravenously over her finger and a gnawing hunger told her that one finger wasn't enough.