But only a brush.But what those scars buy... my hand goes absent-mindedly to the beautiful fine gold chain around my neck, the work of the finest Rhineland goldsmiths, a betrothal-bond taken from the neck of a fair southern maiden. A sweet shiver runs down my spine and between my legs at the thought of what else my husband might have taken from that blue-eyed, dark-haired girl. Our longhouse is filled with material treasures: of gold coins and goblets we have plenty, plundered from the strange. We had been together ever since the ninth grade, except for a few breakups when I caught her going out with other guys. Then, she would come around, crying from those big brown eyes and my heart would melt and we would reconcile. She kept insisting that I was the only one that had her heart, so what did it matter if she wanted to spend time with someone else. Didn’t I know that we were soul mates, she would ask me. I told her that one day she would go too far and I would walk away. But, I never. Kissing and licking her way around my outstretched arms and legs, she then teased, nibbled, squeezed my nipples until they ached, but always bypassed the part I really wanted her to tease, until I was almost begging her to touch me there. Even then, she would only kiss and stroke softly, enough to make me squirm with frustration but never hard enough to allow me to climax. Time and time again I was on the very brink but she always stopped before fulfillment, leaving me writhing about and almost. It sounded as if she only meant that for me, but I knew I had to be reading more into it.While me and Chad had our backs tuned and eyes closed my mom hooked her fingers under the sports bra and peeled it off. Her large rack sprang free from it tight condiment. The excitement and cold air made her nipple hard and she could feel the hard massage table on them when she lied back down. She had kept her back to both of us the entire time and hadn’t noticed Chad looking over his shoulder watching.
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