I move my fingers around inside you, scissoring them to feel the sides of your vagina, then curling them upwards. I start to move them in and out, your juices making a squishing noise as the pressure forces them out and over the worktop, forming a little sticky pool. Your own hand goes to your clit, and you begin to rub and squeeze it, propelling yourself towards your orgasm. I kiss one of your breasts again, sucking hard on your nipple, taking it between my lips, then just nipping it with my teeth. Your breath is coming in gasps now as you approach your climax. Your feet are banging against the cupboard doors under the worktop as you begin to lose control. Each gasp is my name. – Annie, Annie, Annie! Until your legs go tense, your hand presses hard against your clit, and I push my fingers as deep into you as they will go, not stopping my thrusts as your climax comes, wave after wave of fireworks exploding in your body. Your ecstatic cry of orgasm fills the kitchen. I let you slide. I was lying on something that felt like a bed, but the woman who spoke was stirring a large kettle hung over an open fire not twelve feet away. I sat up carefully, expecting a head rush and stabbing pain from the rock that hit me, but neither appeared."Excuse me, but how did we get here?" I still wore my bibs and turtleneck, but someone had taken off my boots."I used the snow to take us home. What is the hot drink you mortals partake of now? The last time I met one of you, it was hot cider." She turned to look at me, and I realized it was the yoga artist from the mountainside. She was wearing clothing now, but the effect was hardly what I could have called "dressed". She wore a thin white gown that revealed much more than it concealed, and I did try not to stare. But it wasn't easy.I finally pulled my eyes away from her torso and looked at her face, and realized she waited for a response. "Oh! Umm, usually coffee, or cocoa. Sometimes tea."She looked at me for a long moment, then.
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