She sank back with a frustrated moan. Too small. Her t**s were too small to do what she wanted. And it had been too long. Too long since she had been with a man. Her right hand changed positions. Two fingers opened her passage, while it was now her thumb's turn to tap out the message of desire.
“It isn't a c**k,” she whispered, “but it will do for now.” Slowly, lovingly, she thrust her fingers into her channel. All the while, her other hand played with her breasts, dancing from one passion-swollen peak to the next, stroking and kneading and pinching until she thought she would scream.
Her c****x grew slowly, as if it were out of practice and unused to her demands. She slowed down, keeping her eyes closed. Memories of her teenage years flitted through her mind. Times when she had hurried
