We literally were squeezed tightly by the travelers. That’s when we started feeling our body against each other. We were standing facing each other. I put my hand around Mary’s waist. She gave a smile as she was perfectly fine and happy. I slowly moved my fingers in her waist and she liked it.I was also caressing her ass and my cock was getting bigger. I winked at her by pointing my head towards my pant. She just smiled and said, “You, naughty.”We had a fun and happy metro ride to the beach. I held her hand and we were strolling on the beach.The weather was pleasant and romantic. I asked her ‘what next’ and asked her how far she wants to take this relationship. She was very clear in her mind and said she felt comfortable with me. She wants to meet in private and take it up from there. We decided to meet at her flat the next weekend.Her flatmate would be traveling to Abu Dhabi to meet her relative. So we’ll enjoy 2 full days in private. Next few days were really fun. We had sexy erotic. She pulled it closer to her, and held it between her hands at arm’s length. The smile melted away from her face, and then contorted into a pained grimace. Small pools gathered in the bottom of her eyes. Marlo cradled it in her arms and rested her head on top of the lid. She began to weep, slowly shaking as she sobbed. I joined her.My sister never cried very much, even during the funeral with dozens of bereaved relatives hardly able to stand they were so grief-stricken. She always had to be the emotional fortress-never wavering, always supporting, always the crutch for everybody else’s feelings and emotions. She never gave herself the chance to ever feel pain or sorrow. I actually enjoyed watching her cry, finally letting something out, born of her own grief and not someone else’s. I think I cried not for Stan, lord knows I’d done that enough, but for her, for her ability to finally feel anguish for something just for the sake of ... whatever - the need to feel pain, to release, to.
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