He works it gently against my clit. It feels as though the ice cube is biting my clit, and it feels so good. He plays with it a little longer before he spreads my lips, and begins to push the cube up inside my pussy. The hotness of my pussy and the cold of the cube make steam. He can’t help but laugh a little, telling me I’m smoking. I can feel it dripping from my pussy, my lips soaked with juices and water. He reaches around once more and begins to rub quickly on my clit, as the cube slowly melts inside me. The excitement of everything we've been doing drives me to the edge, my head rolling back. I can see him. He is kissing my shoulder, working my clit a little faster, and whispering dirty things in my ear. He tells me I’m his perfect little slut; no one can replace me, and that I’m all he’ll ever need. I begin to shudder, and feel the explosion so close, but he tells me I can’t come. He denies me! I shake hard, the restraints keeping me in place, I fight hard not to orgasm. He. Don't worry about anything. You've got a lot more in your tank than you think!" What is this blue line on your tummy?'' I had no idea what he was talking about. ''You have this little blue line right above your pubes, Sylvia." I looked down and saw it too, but I couldn't bend myself over enough to really see it. It looked like it might be some tiny letters. ''Donnie, get down there and look. Maybe there is something going on with my body.'' He put his face down next to my puss. Then he started laughing. '' Did you put that there? It's a fucking tattoo!'' Nobody got themselves tattooed in1965, certainly no women who weren't in a carnival or prison. I looked around. Carole was standing next to the bed, with a big grin. ''Amy gave you a little present the other day when she gave you that white tail feather. Can I read it to you?'' I didn't know quite what to say. ''Sure, what the fuck is it?'' ''You know how letters look when they are printed with a typewriter? It's in that kind of.
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