I bottom out again. An undulating cry of pleasure comes from my throat. I am home.’ ‘Your fingernails scratch at me, marking me, blood welling in ...laces where your passion was exceedingly stoked. I feel none of it. My entire universe consists of the throbbing bar of flesh pumping within your hot silken depths. You begin keening into my ear, clutching at me, afraid to let me go, that I might fly away and it would all be a dream. Your pussy flutters against my invader. Trickles of your lube. Not windup, she assured him, because she’d know that would be a pain in the backside. Just a specially crafted gift, but what made it truly special was the portrait within the other side of the casing It was a near photo-perfect picture of himself, with Fiona on one shoulder, Jen on the other, like an old photo of lovers in a locket. It was not a photo, however, because he’d never taken that particular shot with them. Not a photo, but a painting, so incredibly well-rendered that he had to look. More

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