In the deepest part, treading the water to stay afloat. She began to weep. Her eyes were a clear, clever yellow. She struggled to relax herself, even as her sex clenched these invaders, causing them to roll slowly against each other inside her, brushing against those sensitive walls, so long untouched. But before she could adjust to this, she felt something pressing against the lips of her sex. The feel of her firm young boobs was wonderful and the dress, stretched tight across the back of my hand, a sensory bonus. I slowly crept to the half-opened curtains and peeked inside. Her tits were like fresh, golden dinner rolls swelling over the top of the soft material. And then felt his fingertips on the knots gathered at her waist, carefully untangling them. A single desperation.