H. Lawrence's poem and I'd always liked figs. I didn't expect a fanny to taste like one, though it does a bit sometimes, but the old goat was right. A...cunny's just like a ripe fig, except it's not got the seeds. That is unless you've added to the flavour with a bit of fun from the fruit bowl." You mean, courgettes and carrots and the like?" Sometimes a banana. Even a cucumber. Sometimes, a bit of improvisation in the kitchen beats a mail-order dildo or vibrator, even if the fruit's a bit riper. The berries always made her feel good.So did Miranda. Her sweet smile; her golden skin; her soft, cuddly body. Amelia felt a little overwhelmed being so close to such a breathtaking beauty. Probably a sign of her sickness, Amelia thought. Soon she'd get accustomed to her, and to this house, where she belonged. Accustomed to Miranda, too. Amelia felt especially close to the doe-eyed girl, somehow...She lost her train of thought as Mira shifted her sponge, pressing hard into her thigh. More

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