Lisle was almost boneless as she was lifted.  Boneless, but not limp - not unresponsive.  A vowel born from the pressure and friction sang through her throat and her muscles tensed to hold onto the only supports that she had - Gerlinde's waist and cock.  Her breasts throbbed as they were rubbed by Gerlinde's, their nipples now as stiff as the lance of her clitoris between them.<br/><br/>She felt as thin and fragile as a piece of paper, spread thinly around and against the other woman.  Ironically, the same image of a match crossed her mind, only it was a sturdy wooden match, rubbing against the touch-paper of her inner walls.  The aroma of sex - her own scent and Gerlinde's mingling - was the smoke as the conflagration prepared to ignite and consume her.