Then he was using two fingers and the palm of his hand to soap up her vagina. She closed her eyes and moaned; her legs becoming so weak that she felt they couldn’t support her any longer. Tod kneeled in front of her and used both hands to bring a white lather to her thighs and legs. He ran his hands up and down her lower extremities as though he were stroking a giant’s cock. She screwed her pelvis toward him, wanting to feel his lips against her femaledom, but he avoided it… then began working his way up her backside.

A part of Tod’s mind stood off watching him operate. It was obvious the girl was just about to go out of her mind with lust. He knew that the upper torsos of some women became mottled, almost as if they were just getting over a bad case of measles, when they are within seconds of a climax. Anytime this mottling occurs on a woman, an orgasm is almost inevitable… no matter what the man does or doesn’t do. And Sylvia was that color now.

Quickly then, he lathered up his cock and used his soapy hands on her abdomen. His fingertips brushed across the wet, curling strands of the soft nest of fleece between her legs. He didn’t pause there; his hand slid down ever further, middle finger extended, until he parted the soft wet strands of pubic hair, touched and began caressing her cuntal slit.

Sylvia’s body almost jackknifed with the maddening contact of his finger sliding through the already fevered area. She began to moan in wild, inarticulate phrases, and her inner thighs tried to trap that hand that beautiful hand and keep it captive. Now a second finger was making a lovely intrusion; the middle finger toyed with the clitoris… both fingers moving in unison.

She had to have it… now! She was close… She wanted to feel that powerful maledom inside her. She could no longer be patient. “Please?” It was a craven croak of desire spilling out of her throat.