Felicity, Fee. Cinnamon.

Words like this seem to float in the warm, full air of our room.

Smile. Love. Lust.

I am smiling broadly. Equally as merry as she- My Fee... I rhymed. Smile more. Giggle loudly. See her smirk from my stomach, her head resting on my pale chemise. Pale as the brilliant glare from the sun...

I am delirious. Irrevocably insane and pleasantly a flame.

She, my dear beloved, has breached our protective walls and left me vulnerable in a most delicious way. This must be like the green fairy or Queen Mab, the way I feel must be horribly diabolical because it feels so... wonderful. It is as if, in giving in to primal, carnal love, and "tainting" my soul, I have reached beyond that Eden and found myself my own fruit- only now there is no snake and there is no God. There are only two 17 year old girls and no man to tame their wilderness- they're passion- their love.

I have leapt without looking and found myself in a tangle, a tangle I should fear, should be running to dispel from my very being, but am instead luxuriating, basking in the silky, sensual glory of it all. Her fingers gently brush my thigh, a tantalizing flurry of sensation of bliss and potent sensuality. As they dance upon my skin in a ritualistic burlesque and tauntingly slowly inch upwards towards the apex of my legs, I arch and bemuse her. She slides down my stomach before pushing my hips back down again, smiling as she remarks softly, "down girl". I smirk, thinking of how easily this young lady has conquered me. . . And then her face vanishes and all I can see of her from my limited view is a mass of blonde hovering over my madge and then it collides.

Felicity is nipping and kissing at the inner sides of my thighs, pulling the dark curls of my sex with her deft fingers and -Oh, how delicious! I breathe deeply, savoring the blatant act of her wish, her want as she seizes my sex and kisses it fully on. Fee gasps like a cooing dove at the fountain that seems to have sprung from with in me, its a hot, burning sensation intermingled with her fingers that moments ago were complacently warm but are now ice against my seething, scathing flesh.

She presses and swirls a small nub at the peak of my madge, toying with it like a child and a pop...

In the moments after she caused me to shake and explode in lights, Felicity lay next to me and whispered heatedly in my ear, "Pip, darling, you are a wanton waif and... I love you."

Her body rolled against mine, and her nude flesh silkily touched mine as her hand gripped mine and she smiled in remembrance of the insatiable hunger that was mine.

denotes Victorian Slang for vagina