Just once, so she would know what it—he—felt like. Sex vedio Where the courage came from, how she found herself straddling him, she would never be able to say. What an odd thing to compare it—him—to. His hands awakened at the periphery of her vision, she hardly saw them, his left hand burrowing under her dress to her waist and his right hand pulling aside her panties, pressing down, down on the seam where her belly joined the top of her hip until she felt a push, felt her most sensitive flesh yielding around him. She was losing the ability to stay quiet. After a few seconds it twitched and she snatched her hand away, breathing hard. One tilt of her head and she could see him out of the corner of her eye. It was the least she could do. When you were sick or wounded you didn’t have a “side.” You belonged to everyone. The harder she bit the more she unwound, her insides tumbling like a landslide in her deepest centre, and the more she had to swallow the cries pushing up her throat so that no one else would hear. His breathing was shallow and laboured—tuberculosis, they assumed—and whenever his eyes fluttered open, he was too feverish to speak or make any sense.
