The Making of Molly Pt. 02

Ally holds her upright my the hips, not breaking contact as he gently licks up and down the length of her throbbing, drenched slit until she lifts her head from against the wall, half-broken but very sated.

Gently, she leans on her hands on his head and dismounts her most pleasurable steed. With wobbly legs, Molly curls up in the fetal position, facing away from him on the right hand cushion of the sofa. Ally moves to the opposite end of the sofa to catch his breath and evaluate what has just happened. He looks at Molly, twitching and whimpering as her body tries to return to some form of normality. Her breathing is still ragged and she doesn't make eye contact whatsoever, or even turn to look at him. For 10 minutes she just stays there, little yips, moans and vibrations coursing through her shell shocked body. Suddenly, she raises from seated, leans on the arm to steady her shaky legs and without looking back towards him, she exits the living room and goes upstairs.

'What the fuck have I just done?" Ally sits and asks himself out loud. He physically punches himself on the leg, admonishing himself that his little sister has come home for a quiet weekend, and he has taken advantage of her. He doesn't know what to do, does he go up and see her? Does he leave her be? Does he just keep punching himself?

Around 6 o'clock Jasmine phones. Her aunt is rather unwell and her mother wants to stay the night. She says that she will drive home and come back in the morning but Ally tells her that by the time she would get here, it would be too late. He would like to be able to say that this was for his pregnant future wife's own benefit, and while he is worried about her driving at night, he also wants more time to bail himself out from the flood of this shit storm he had just created for himself.

To be continued.