Her Peak Of Passion

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Jo Daniels became conscious of the damp feeling at her crotch, turning cooler now in the night air coming through the open door of the patio. She bent over to look between her legs. A wet stain loomed accusingly there, and she hurried through the room on into her bedroom.

She undid her pants and peeled them away from her middle. Holding them up she looked again, as if fascinated by what she had done in them. She caught the heady scent of her honey on them, and somehow the pants drew close to her nose so that she could take the dizzying fragrance deep into her senses. She glimpsed at herself in the big mirror in the room, and shame washed over her again. She snatched the pants down, as if hiding her activities from herself, and glared at her image as if challenging it.

She had seen a young boy as she was coming home, and she had followed him to where he lived. He reminded her so much of Mario. It was as if Mario had never aged as she had. It had been ten years since that night with Mario, ten long, and most times, miserable years. When her parents had discovered what she had done, they had sent her off to a very strict convent. She had turned twenty-one while working many hours a day for her master's degree, then on for her doctorate in psychology. She had lost herself in her studies and research and had pushed sex out of her mind.

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