And then, startlingly, came a second. It was possible. Perspiration glowed on her shiny forehead and her skin felt damp from the exertion. I returned last spring, a little earlier than I was expected, and saw the real girl that she was at 18. My arms circled her hips and I eased her forward until the wild foliage of her pussy hovered just above my lips. And then, startlingly, came a second. He bit her tongue and lips, licked at the blood like an animal. I tried to read something from her expression that would tell me that she was feeling different too. Yet I felt no shards of guilt ripping at my conscience and no reluctance to spread my legs for her touch. And when, a few moments later, the hand pressed on the other thigh and parted her still more, and she felt the other rope being tied around her leg, she realized that she was being genly splayed.