Free Playing with a girlfriend. Porn Pics

A Feminist learns the error of her ways.

Her body pressed even tighter against his as if she sought to meld them together, to become one. It was as silly as the words of those novels. But in her drunken dream it all seemed impossibly real. Her secret fantasies come to life. Her body came to life. Her legs fell open, just fell open. Everything seemed so surreal, as if in slow motion, as if she floated above the bed, looking down as another erotic story unfolded before her eyes.

The hand on her breast moved lower. It caressed her inner thigh covered in the soft silkiness of her stocking. It brushed back the lace of her thong. Fingers that were not her own found the warm wetness of her body. She arched up as they danced across the most sensitive bundle of nerve endings there. Her hips undulated against the firm pressure as if seeking to control the intimate dance.

Then they slipped lower. Inside of her. And she winced. Pain sliced through her dream as the probing fingers moved deeper inside of her. She shoved at those same broad shoulders as she tried to turn her head away. Tried to escape a fantasy that was turning rapidly into a nightmarish reality. She fought to make sense of it all.

It all came crashing back then. The show down with Stuart. Throwing the ring at him. His hurtful words. The shame. Crying for hours until no more tears would come. Her brash decision to drown her sorrow in alcohol. The bottle of wine at Injun Joe's. Him. Oh god...him. This was no dream. She had invited a man, a real live man, into her bed. And he was intent upon doing what men did when you invited them into your bed.

She felt his weight shift. His tongue in her mouth caressed against hers. She was torn. It felt so damned good...his kiss. More heady than the wine. His kisses did things to her that she had only ever read about. Some dark part of her wanted to see if the rest of those books might be true too. If there was more to this sex thing than just going along, doing your duty for someone else's pleasure. If there might actually be mutual pleasure?

Her momentary indecision was all it took. He made the decision for both of them. His body lunged forward. She screamed into his mouth as the pain lanced through her. She had thought that was just shit romantic garbage like all the rest. But in that moment the pain was very real. Her nails sunk deep into the muscles of his shoulders but not in pleasure as the heroine did in all her books, but trying to find something solid as her world spun out of control. Even more than it had these past few months.

"What the fuck?" he cursed as he pulled back as if scalded by hot water or acid. He held perfectly still above her. His dark face hidden in the shadow. She could only guess his thoughts as she turned her head away towards the wall and fought back tears. Maybe Stuart was right? Maybe she was unnatural? Less than a woman. Fridged.

***

Jackson stared down at the woman. Even in the dim light her tears glistened accusingly at him. Tears of pain? Shame? Women like Abby Monroe did not just casually throw themselves at men like him. He had a quarter of a century of his grandfather's pain to know that this could go nowhere. And yet again he was left with a single word summation, "Why?"

The word had been rhetorical. He had not really expected an answer. So when the silence ended with a soft sob and whimpered, "I thought it was a dream. My fantasy come to life."

Her sobs ate at his gut. Guilt was not an emotion that he often indulged in. It was one of the things that had made him such a good SEAL. Just get the job done and go on to the next one. He was always running and never looked back.

She shifted beneath him. Another whimper accompanied the movement that had only forced him deeper inside her tightness. He could not stop his own moan...of pleasure.

His brain that had been trained to take in information, make rapid calculations and change plans on the fly took over.