My sex life consisted of masturbating behind the closed bathroom door two or three times a day imagining what a woman's nipple felt like, or the sensa...ion of actually pushing a hard cock into a receptive and eager pussy. My only porn was the hidden fold-out from an old playboy I had found in the neighbor's garbage. But the pert girl-next-door nipples never seemed to excite me as much as the mature hanging slope of an older woman's breasts. "It's too hot to be out in the sun like that," I said. "You're the daughter of the Marquis," I asserted blankly as if this would come as a surprise to her, which, of course, it didn't. For me, it was still an upsetting surprise although the more I looked at her, the more that I saw the likeness. I felt stunned, and the rock fell limply from my hand. "You're Christine de Lyons."For certain, I'd awake to discover that I was insane, or that this was a dream or the mischief of the Devil; for how could she be here with me in my cave?I wondered whether. More

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