A man's hands. Familiar hands. Not to me, obviously, but to her. I know this routine. Usually its the umpteenth asshole boyfriend, but no - these aren't some dumbass teenager's hands, not even those of some shithead college jock. This guy's way older, so that means the truth is far more sour still - he's a relative, I bet. Some fucker she's trusted, once. That's painful. The cacophony of emotions begins to make a little more sense to me. There's that quivering strand of confusion running through it all - betrayal. The absolute, fundamental, world-inverting betrayal you only get when you are deceived by that which you relied upon most. Its a gut-wrenching, sickening feeling that makes me nauseous. Not nauseous enough to counteract my own sick feeling of arousal though, dammit. Shit, I can feel bile in the back of my throat and its not just the absinthe. These always give me flashbacks to my first trip... If that weren't bad enough by itself, having two violent flashbacks at the same. As I made my way to the bathroom, I could smell my scent and feel my juices on my thighs. I loved the smell of pussy and brought my fingers up to my nose to get a better scent of me that day. I didn’t stop there and ran my fingers over my lips, tasting myself and feeling that beautiful tingle between my legs grow as a result. I stepped into the shower, adjusting the temperature of the water and letting the steaming water ran through my hair and pour over my face. Reaching for the shower gel, I let the slippery soap bubbles run down my body, trailing from my shoulders to my breasts and down to my pussy. As I ran my hands over my body gently caressing the skin, I closed my eyes imagining they were Jessica’s hands and that she was standing naked in the shower with me. I slid my right hand down to my pussy, allowed my fingers to linger on the slightly parted outer lips, and let my middle finger gently rub the nub of my clit. I touched my nipples with my left hand, rolling them.
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