Isabelle was still kneeling, crouching on my side. As the intensity of our lovemaking – her hungry mouth on my cock and my hand and fingers on her a...s - increased, Isabelle drew in her legs more and more. My marauding hand was in her panties. As Isabelle’s thighs spread open, my fingers slid from her ass down onto the raised fleshy fold of Isabelle’s pussy. Her thighs began to shiver. Convulsing, they clamped shut, and the tips of two of my fingers were pressed into the pussy’s slippery. Too soon, of course, and as it turned out, with the wrong person. After the sensational murder of Nash by another woman in his apartment, her grief had quickly turned to rage, and she doubted if she would ever be able to love a man again.Now, two days before the anniversary of her marriage to Patrick, she had plunged into the depths of depression, as if the arrival of spring had never come. If it weren't for Lindy, she might even have taken her own life, had she been able to find the courage to. More

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