For her part, Barbara kept one hand on Slate's back. Her skin was as if polished stone was malleable and warm - it was incredibly smooth, but with an innate toughness. Barbara's other hand was held helplessly against the stone brick wall. It was cool to Slate's warmth, and Barbara knew which one of those two she preferred.
The rasping end of Slate's tongue touched Barbara's tender breast. She found herself giving a gasp of shock as a burst of fire shook her mind. It was her first taste of pleasure - real pleasure. With all those prayers, Barbara had torn herself away from touching herself to alleviate whenever the lusting got too bad. Now that she allowed her lustfulness to bear fruit, Barbara could see just how much she had been missing out on.
As Slate's tongue writhed and touched the
