His hand was inside his pants and she could see it moving, see him stroking himself. He was hard for her. All for her. Her fingers moved faster, grind...ng hard against her aching clit until her hips lifted off the sofa.“Stop.”She didn’t want to but forced her hand away, breathing hard.Agony. It was beautiful, intense, addictive agony. She wanted to come but then she didn’t want to either. She wanted to please him even as her body ached for release, hips lifting, searching for some friction. One of Mom's knives had a handle with a rounded end, but she didn't like the idea of putting a knife so close to her special place.Next, she checked the pantry closet, where Mom kept all the cleaning stuff. Some of the brushes had long handles, but the mop caught her eye. She took it out of the closet, running her hand over the rounded end. It was thick enough, and definitely long enough. She sat on the stool and held it to her groin, rubbing her warm area through her jeans.She put it back in. More

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