“I won’t repeat the nasty shit they said,” I pant. “No, I had a feeling you wouldn’t.” She takes my hand again, bringing it around the front of her. No, she’s not…she’s not going to…but she does. She cups my hand between her thighs, all of that moist, girlish softness filling my palm—Jesus—and I tighten my grip without thinking. It’s just instinct. Her pussy has always been mine, at least in my head, and my hand moves on its own. “Yes, Zach,” she moans, grinding on my lap. “They might have said nasty things about my body, but…you’re the only one who’ll ever see it. Touch it.”
