Her fingers gripped the arm in anticipation. Her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth bit into her lower lip. Gently Dalias’ lips brushed the soft skin ...f Susans’ inner thighs. Higher and higher she tasted, sampling the taste or Susans’ thighs. Higher and higher until her cheek brushed Susans, mound. A soft moan of pleasure escaped Susans’ throat and her fingers turned white from gripping the chair. “Please” she whispered hoarsely. “PLEASE.” Dalia turned her head and her lips brushed Susans’,. . and unconscious.He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. He concentrated on the feel of that ... her warm lips soft and pliable ... her scent clean and sweet. He kissed her lips harder, feeling both the thrill of it and guilt at abusing his patient. He pulled back, feeling shame.Her eyes were open, staring at him."I'm sorry," he gasped.She blinked, and licked her lips. Her mouth made sticky noises and he realized her throat was too dry to speak. He got the water pitcher off his dry. But enough on what Christmas means to me and onto my favorite Christmas memory!Two Thousand Nine marked my twenty first birthday year and my most favorite Christmas. My older sister Danielle was home on holiday from St. Vincent College, and the house seemed to be in order like the olden days except for the absence of Dad who had passed after losing a fight to Prostate Cancer in Two Thousand Seven.I was lying on moms bed in her room watching my favorite Christmas movie, "It's a Wonderful Life,". Angry...and hurt. But part of me...a deeper part, a lustful part, a part that motivated my deepest, darkest masturbation fantasies...was so white hot, so alive, so buzzing....so taking me over and consuming me, that I couldn't do anything but agree to all of it. We said goodbye and that was it.Tom wasn't an asshole about it, not at all. But he was just straight to the point, not much small talk, very direct. It was somewhat dominant, but not overtly so, not to the point where it might have.
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