" But you're a lady, Aunt Paula, and ladies shouldn't have sympathy with men." Cal felt braver, calling himself a man."Shouldn't, sweet boy, and can't... Not if sympathy means knowing what's in your heart as I... as I... do the things I must to you. But pity's a different thing. It's my sorrow, Cal, that we can't sympathize, that we must be what we are, a woman, a boy. It's what I return to you for your humility, what every woman returns to every man. Oh, Cal, my pity for you IS my love." It's so. I pause, my heart racing and let my senses scan the stacks, looking for any signs of life before I slip my hand down the front of my pants.My panties are soaked and I begin working my fingers between my swollen pussy lips to tease my clit. I trace slow circles over my flesh that serve to inflame my arousal. And as the sensations intensify, I occasionally create a burst of rapidfire vibrations. My fingers, light and teasing, pressed flat against the front of my pussy, become a blur of movement. More

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