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ghtening involuntarily, as though I
had been tickled.
His hand slid lower still and cupped my hairless sex, stroking
gently. I was determined not to respond, and again my detachment
returned. He continued to stroke. My skin felt so smooth down there; I
could see the point of the hairlessness, I thought for the second
time. But I was determined not to respond. Not to move. I could have
an orgasm and he would never know, I thought. I was becoming more and
more detached; floating, almost dreaming. His caresses became more
insistent; his fingers entered me. Still I didn't respond. I deliber-
ately relaxed.
This is hard to explain. As he continued to stroke and kiss me, I
remained detached, but my body began to move without effort on my
part. Sounds like I'm making this up, I know. It was as though I were
watching from outside, still completely relaxed, and my body was
acting on its own. I watched my body's hips move first, ever so
slightly, pushing against his expert hand. He stroked more gently,
searching and probing, finding exactly the right spot. My hips began
to move rhythmically. His h
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