“stop, we must stop,” Sadhana utters half heartedly. The girth of his shaft presses against her, between her legs. Her body rises, grinding herself against his hardness. She can no more stop this, nor she can stop the burning desires she feels. Sadhana’s judgment is eclipsed by the desire she feels. His hardness slips against the dampened, thin material of her lacy panties providing her only a sliver of modesty. Her tiny nub protruding and sending electric shocks with each of his strokes, sending tingles from between her folds to her jutting nipples. His hardness strains at her panties and Sadhana fears they will break … She fears and desires they break. His chest is rubbing against her breasts and his hands are supporting her from below. His lips and tongue caress sadhana’s mouth. His hands cup her lavish buns, and his fingers tease at her rose; sending chills and quivers through her body. Sadhana can no longer control herself and reaches down to take his girth in her hand. Her. It's entirely possible that Natalie suspected, but if so, she never let on. In late May they rode, Charles on the Norton, Natalie on the Matchless, out to Longshore and parked the bikes (chained together) under the same trees that had sheltered the Cortina almost exactly a year previously.They walked across the open moor to Longshore Lodge, and drank coffee outside the Visitors' Centre, watching the birds on the feeders and nibbling date-and—walnut cake, after which they walked down through the estate, past the pond, across the road, following the paths they'd trod on their first date; stopped and kissed in the spot where Natalie had said some of the trees might be Ents. She walked up to an ancient, gnarled and twisted Sessile Oak, laid a hand on it, and said, "thank you."Leaving the woods, they had lunch in the Station Café, and walked over the railway bridge, across the river, and up the other side of the gorge. Turning aside from the path, they sat on the same rock, and watched.
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