The shifter pulled on the back straps and closed the jacket over her torso, buckling each strap tightly, tugging as hard as he could. Jackline's finge... felt the rough canvas inside the sleeves. Both of them were sewn shut, trapping both her hands inside.As each back buckle was fastened, the jacket began to slowly conform to her form, hugging her waist, molding to her breasts. A part of her wanted to feel herself with the sleeves. It was inviting thought. But she couldn't be too rebellious for. It was only I who felt anything but typical. Originally, I was going to try Tripp’s cabin once more, but I changed my mind at the last minute, especially after realizing that it was still quite early in the evening. There was one thing I wanted to do before I left this place. The sun was setting, although you couldn’t really tell because of the rain clouds that cluttered the sky. At least the weather today matched my mood. Like most nights, the barn was empty, just as I knew it would be. For a. Mike Davenport was already standing on the bottom tread. He came down, grinned all goofy, and jerked his moptop around a bit. Then he kicked off his shoes, undid his corduroys, and turned bare-assed to us. Like in slow motion he put his hands behind his back and crossed his wrists. We went up to him. My finger slipped into his pre-moistened hole; I'd say it was sucked in, actually. As I fingered him he moaned like a bitch in heat, and Bruce grabbed him around the neck. He forced Mike's ear back. He pushes between my legs, his hardness brushing against me, making me jump a little, making me gasp a little. His hand finds its way between us, he guides himself to me, pushing gently, parting my swollen lips and barely entering. Pulling out again, teasing. My head rolls back, eyes closed, another moan. It is too much. I lay back on the table and he assists by shoving aside some papers and things, clearing a spot for me. I pull up my t-shirt and sports bra, giving him access to my breasts, my.
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