The feeling was wonderful. His thumbs held me open as he lapped up my joy juice. I was aroused but too anxious to orgasm. Although I even caressed my...breasts and played my nipples, as I sometimes do when I ‘jill’ myself, I was unable to get over the edge to an orgasm. After a while, my hands lifted his face from my pussy. He sat back with a sad look on his face. He realized I hadn’t orgasmed. I was sure he thought he had failed me. Trying to encourage him and not hurt his feelings any. Either her hand wasn’t quick enough or the gaps between her fingers allowed the sob to pass. It was only the one, heaving sob, short, but full of sorrow and a lonely anguish. It came from the heart, a place she had hoped her extended stay away had capped off, but returning home had reopened the wound. The memories of Jim, lying on the sofa, watching the figures on his prized possession, yelling at the team or the referee or contestants in a game show, were so stark. The time since his death had. More

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