She led them to a small table. Zahava sat down at one end and the old witch at the other. The man sat on the side and threw down a gold coin. ‘Give ...e your hands,’ the old woman requested. ‘No,’ Zahava replied. ‘Do it,’ the man yelled before banging his fist onto the table. Zahava reluctantly put her bound delicate hands onto the table. The witch grabbed one with her weathered and dry hand. She turned it over and touched her palm. ‘No,’ the old hag exhaled. ‘What,’ Zahava replied. ‘I sense. She was wet again. As he reached down further, his middle finger found her open and waiting and slipped slowly inside her. He reached deeply as he kissed her and could feel her inhale, not a gasp of panic but one of passion. Her hand was roaming also. She again tickled his chest through his chest hair, he found later that he was her first lover with such abundant hair and it fascinated her. Her fingers made their way down his chest and across his belly until it found her goal, hard and excited. More

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