There was clearly no going back. It was now a question of how much she wanted - how much she needed - from me. I would give.There's something special ...bout the first touch of forbidden skin. It's always hotter, always more sensitive, and always awaited. I found the first touch at her waist, gently tucking a finger under the hem of that fabulous singlet. From here, an unhurried voyage of discovery ensued; a finger became a palm, the hem became the flat of her slight abdomen, the teasing became. She had fine posture, good carriage as they sometimes call it."No children?" The house was very quiet.Her eyes widened. "Amica," she said loudly, "go down to the barn and work on that flax." The back door closed as she released a sob."I'm sorry," I said as she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wept into it. I did not know whether to go hold her and pat her or not so I just sat and looked out the window until she sniffed and stopped crying."I've had three since, um, since my husband has. More

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