Chapter 12

Sekhmet was right ... there had been some modifications.

Wendy was eighteen ... at the height of her femininity ... and the heights she reached were more than I imagined ... and, believe me ... I have a superb imagination.

Wendy passed superb like Richard Petty lapped the field twice in the 1973 Daytona 500; Way out front.

She was standing in her altogethers in front of a mirror. Her no sag no crease breasts were cupped in her ivory palms while her index finger and thumb on each of those long slender hands were rolling her coral nipples ... her perfect face was slightly contorted as fluid from her puffy lips dripped down her alabaster thighs.

"Oh, David ... yes!"

I knew she couldn't see me because I couldn't see her reflection, so I assumed she was living her dream.

I was looking at mine. And the reality was far better than my dream. Sure ... the hospital fixed me ... and I don't mean Vet fixed ... it works ... but the instant appreciation I registered sent my blood away from my brain and I stopped thinking ... I think I stopped breathing too. I know my heart was so loud even with the door closed the nurse had to have heard it.

Wendy continued to manipulate that left breast and nipple while her right hand snuck between her lips and she licked her fingers with her tongue ... the hand continued south ... lightly caressing that flat belly and pinched the pearl that peeked from between her primary sexual characteristics. For a girl ... Wendy was hung.

When she pinched...

First, let me tell you something you might not know: A Girl Knows Exactly How Much Pain To Administer To Her Body ... To get to her happy place. Right down to how hard she can slap her clit, squeeze her breast, stretch her nipple or stick her finger up her ass ... because she's done it. Even the doms.

A guy can pass those limits in a grope ... her limits for him are not the same limits she has for herself.

"Gently, David." I heard that a lot. And I learned. Since I seemed to learn better than the jocks ... after all, a breast is not a football the jock is intent on receiving in the End Zone ... not something you hold onto for dear life because the free safety is bent on knocking it out of your hands before both feet come down inbounds ... no. As a general rule ... the breast your holding is, or has been, a subject of quiet negotiations for quite some time. That tender orb is treated like an egg under the accelerator pedal ... gently or the crack you hear and the slap you feel means you pressed too hard.

Not every girl is into cutting herself or sticking a pin in her nipple ... but every girl had thought about it ... they read the Letters, just like you.

So ... when she pinched her clit ... instant gratification.