"I didn't know how much I would need."

I step behind you. "I’m going to start now. No more questions."

I flip on the stereo and music swells out from the speakers, and erupts into the room, leaving no space for conversation. The music is artsy and abstract. Dramatic, then subtle. I stand behind you and start to rub your shoulders. The tension of your day stands in knots behind your neck.

You drink your beer. You hand it to me, and I finish it.

"You want another?" I offer.

"That’d be great."

This time, I open it, take a long drink, then move to kiss you and push the taste in with my tongue. You kiss me, a little surprised. Sometimes I’m a little stingy with kisses. You grab my ass.

"Not yet," I say and pull your hands away. "Okay, back to the regularly scheduled program..."

You wonder what the hell I have up my sleeve.

I cross over to the counter. You take a swig of beer. I bring a tray covered with small bowls and cups from the refrigerator.

"Now what’re you doing?"

"Stop talking."

"Is this for the painting?" you ask.

"No questions," I insist and answer you with a soft kiss on the forehead. I start to rub a paste on your cheeks. I dab the stuff on, smoothing it over soft skin. The paste is a pale green, containing avocados or cucumbers or some such mess, and I whisper, "close your eyes," and place chilled, damp tea bags over your eyelids. I continue spreading the cream on your face, and leave your lips in the middle, bare, and oh, so kissable. Problem is, I couldn't find your lips without getting some of that thick paste all over my own face.

Another quick preparation, and the microwave pings that something is ready.

I take two bowls out of the microwave and touch the liquid to my wrist, checking the temperature.

"This is kinda fun," you say, eyes still closed behind tea bags. "I could get into this kind of special treatment. Could I order one up next Thursday?" I try not to laugh, because if you could see how funny your face looks covered with green vegetable goo, you might not want to do it again.

"Shh!" I whisper fiercely, and kneel down and remove your shoes. Nearby, I have a small tub of dissolved Epson salts and I place your feet into the warmth of that. While your feet soak, I take a warm wet cloth and remove the paste from your face. I take away the tea bags. I wash your face one more time, and then clean it with cotton balls soaked in some Mary Kay product that I pulled from the back of the bathroom closet. It smells sweet and clean. I take your feet out of the water, and dry them with a towel.

"Okay, I’m ready to paint you now."

What’s this? You wonder. You had to clean me up first? You feel a little pampered, but then you also feel pissed. What the hell was that all about? You sit up on the chair. You take a drink of beer. You decide to lay low and go with the flow.

"I’m gonna take your clothes off, ‘kay?"

Intrigued that I plan to paint you nude, you wonder what I will do with the painting after it’s finished. That canvas is pretty big. You hope it doesn't become the next billboard down by city hall.

I crouch in front of you, and start kissing your neck. I move to center front and find the first button with my mouth. I unfasten that with my teeth, grateful that the flannel is soft and the buttonholes are somewhat stretched. With a few twists and some teeth action, I soon have all the buttons undone and start to run my tongue down the front of your body to your belt. You stand to push the discomfort of a crowded cock to the loose part of your jeans. I unfasten faded jeans as you stand, and pull them down. Your huge cock springs into my face, and I ache to take you inside my mouth.

But that’s not the plan.

I want to just look at your body; I want to savor every detail. I pat the center of the canvas, and ask you to lie down on it.

"I am going to paint you."

With that, I motion for you to roll on your stomach, and turn away to get a tray. You mutter, "What the fuck?" but you are not interested in having some sort of showdown with me now about wills. Your cock knows how to slide home to the back of my throat with no effort, and you know that whatever little game I have going here will lead ultimately to that. Since it means you have to wait, you’ll wait.

I start to squeeze my "paint" out of a tube. I take a brush, and begin painting your back, then I stop. With a grease pencil, I make dark, demanding circles across your back and then the paint brush strokes resume, soft, and deft. At some points they start to tickle, the paint solution drooling down, and then I take a different brush, with different bristles and take a different solution and paint with that. I cover your back and then paint your legs, and then I start to paint your buttocks. I touch your skin only with the fine hairs of the paint brush, then take a small nylon scrubber dipped in a paste, and press that on, stippling, and clouding the area and the effect of the first paint. I paint with tiny brushes that tickle you lightly, then with natural sponges that brush the paints on with wrinkles and chasms folding inside. The aromas from the various oils engulf the two of us, citrusy or spicy, heady and pungent. Some of the solutions I designed myself, searching for an array of scent and color–cinnamon, cloves, limes, peaches, even peppermint.

I trace your skin with strokes. All oiled, the brush feels like a tongue's caress. Many of the oils I’m using are heated, but some are straight from the refrigerator, and when I use a particularly warm one, your skin flickers a cringe as your body gets used to the new temperature. When I see that happen, I stroke, stroke, stroke it into a nearby area, longing to lean forward and smooth it all out with my mouth. I refrain, staining dark areas with vanilla, and other areas with cucumber oil that glistens. One oil is a reddish brown and it smells cinnamony and light. My passion paints visibly all across your back, huge swirls of color, vast sexual overtones. I ache for you.

"Roll over, Sweetie." I say, softly.

"I’m all wet." You protest, and I nudge at you, and you roll, leaving a smear of color on the floor cloth. Your erection springs up, and the tip curves almost to your belly button. I stand over you now wearing only a long white shirt, and you decide I must have changed quickly while you were on your stomach, waiting for something to heat up, or when you thought I had stepped away to retrieve something. You can look right up my shirt and see the hairs of my soft pussy, and above, the swish of loose breasts as I stand and reach to grab something on the counter top. I feel you starting to reach up to touch me. Deftly, I take a spray bottle of ice water and squeeze the trigger, jetting a cold stream into your face. It works on the cats.

You laugh at my efforts, "Hey hey" you say before settling back into the canvas so I can start to paint your legs.

One moment, I am using a two inch brush from the hardware store, and then I switch to a sponge brush with some coconut oil and I skip over your eager cock to paint your stomach. I take the grease pencil again, and I draw exotic flower shapes and dark birds across your skin, almost tribal elements. I paint with a small brush and color them in with a bluish tint. Another stain is a dark, coffee brown, and I paint you and you can smell it, it is thick, dark, espresso. I paint this on your chest and the strokes make your nipples stand to a hard ripple that I can hardly resist. I want to run my hands down your body and run all the colors together. I stand up and you look up at me, towering over you, and you can see my own nakedness under the flowing, soft shirt, and you long to reach up.

I laugh and brandish the squirt bottle threateningly, "Not yet!"

Then, I take a large red pomegranate out of the nearby bowl of fresh fruit and begin to pull off the hull in large, pithy pieces. The bright fruit is clinging to the milky flesh, with the pieces of crisp red berries dangling in clusters. I wipe my hair out of my face and a smear of brown covers my cheek. I crouch down over you, my pussy almost touching your stomach. Balanced there, I start to feed you pieces of the fruit. I want to smother you in a wave of erotic gestures, and this fruit with its belly full of eggs, my pussy wavering an inch away from your cock is just about enough to do you in. I put some fruit into my mouth and pass it to you with a kiss. The berries crunch as you bite them, and seeds drop away in pairs and bounce like scattered marbles. Drips of red juice drip away from my hands and splash onto your face on dark features.

I lay the fruit aside, and reach to pick up a stray seed that has fallen on your stomach. As I take the berry between my fingertips, I press it together with a snap, and then paint its redness with my fingertip across the one bare streak left on your shoulder. This is the first time I have touched your skin with my hand, and it signals a change, and soon I feel your hand tentatively snake up under my shirt and its warmth as you take hold of my breast. I relax right into your palm, for it is what I have been aching to yield against. You sit up beneath me, all painted and primitive, and I kiss you. Your hands unbutton my blouse, and at once it becomes an oily stained rag as you pull it off my shoulders.

You see the white canvas of my own skin and you want to paint me. You roll away, taking charge, filling your hands with oils and paints, then streaking them across my skin and body, rubbing and finger-painting the oils and scents into original designs, meticulously at first, then hurried and intense, loud and exclamatory as the music suddenly vibrates through the core of the room. You lower me down to the cloth, and continue to rub and massage color and oil into my skin. As your own body moves across the canvas, the oils and paints smear off in random design.

You spread my thighs apart and take a brush filled with water and rose petals and watch the strokes of warmth settle there on my inner legs. You dip the brush again, with chamomile tea scents and stroke it on my pussy, watching my body react to the heat. You know that the liquid next to it is much colder, so you dip a thick brush there, and then stroke my clitoris with that brush, deep and intense.

I start to feel a sudden tingly, burning sensation and quickly ask, "Which one was THAT." I clap my hand over my throbbing clit.

"What's wrong?" You ask, laying the paintbrush aside. "What happened?" You point to the dish that you had last dipped the paintbrush in. "What’s in there?"

"Straight tequila." I answer, "and I’m not sure it was designed to GO there. It doesn’t hurt, but it definitely gave me a kick start."

You move quickly down and with your warm mouth, lick away the throb of the alcohol and it disappears in a matter of seconds as I relax into your mouth. The music sweeps across me, the scents flooding my senses.

I start to sink into that place where I don't care, and my body reacts in rhythm to yours for a minute or two, then I pull away and stop you. This isn't supposed to be about me, it was intended to be about you.

I lean against you and take your cock abruptly in my mouth, sucking deeply and feeling it respond. I slide it way back and tease the base with my tongue. My hand reaches into one of the cold solutions for a small piece of ice. With you still deep in my face, I rub that ice against my clit. The cold shocks me, then the ice melts and water drips down my thigh, my fingers reaching and finding, my mouth eager. I slip off your dick, and start to touch with the cool hand that held the ice. Your prick springs away and I hear the "Ah!" of your breath as surprise catches you. I lick the colors off your chest, taste the oils away, and they smear into my face, as I swallow the flavor. Coffee, vanilla, stains from berries, I taste them one at a time, and my own face becomes a muddied mass of color as I kiss them away. Some of the stains will stay put for a couple of days, I think playfully. I hope our clothes will cover most of them. Lingering on your thighs, I think about these dark stains, a shared secret, like a hickey we have to hide.

Your balls are cradled in my hand, and I move to the side and take your cock again into my mouth. I long to feel you come inside me.

Your taste is thick. My tongue, patient and firm, finds you there, hips rocking up against me in welcome. The music reaches for us, and we decide on the same beat, and I pulse my tongue against the ridge there, my hands holding you and waiting for cues. In moments, you come. It rises out of you with an arch and a quiet thrust. I let the waves subside, stop licking, and hold you in my mouth. Then I roll you on your back and straddle to sit. You feel me selfishly rock flesh against your back to hit a spot and my hand finds it and smooths it away. You feel me above you, fingerfucking myself above your back, and you roll to watch. I scoot and embellish with my hand, the wetness, and the strokes. Later, I drop my hand, to massage your face, rubbing my scent into the stubble of your beard. I have no doubt that you will be hard in moments and this time I will ride it. I love to fuck. You love to watch me. It always lasts longer the second time, after I take the edge off.

* * *

Later, as I wash up the paint pots, I survey the damage. The canvas is colored with a ripple of smears from our passion.  All in all, I think it was just about the right size.

            “Becky Farlop”. While glancing at the name tag on the door I knocked and waited. A second or two later, the door opened to reveal a very busty middle-aged women. She wore black rimmed glasses, a white blouse with a black mid-thigh loose skirt. Her dark brown hair fell to her middle back, and she stood a few inches shorter than me. Although quite older than me, she was a looker for sure.

            “Can I help you hun?” Becky asked me with raised eyebrows and tight lips.

            “Yes, my name is Trey, and I would like to hand in this application to you personally, Mrs. Farlop.”

            “And you couldn’t just hand it into the cashier?” She responded. It didn’t sound like a penetrating question, just a curious one.

            “Well I just wanted to make sure it went to someone who was in charge of the store. That way it may get more attention in their hands, yours, than sitting on a shelf under a register.”

            “Hmm, I like the initiative you took. I do need someone to stock the shelves, part-time. If you’d like, you can come in for the interview right now – I’m not busy with other business.”

            “Oh that’d be great. Thank you.”

            She opened the door to me and pointed to a chair sitting in front of her desk, then closed the door as she walked to her own desk chair. Becky’s office was small, but comfortable with a desk in the middle, a couch behind the door, two bookshelves, two chairs in all, and a small table with a plant.

            As I took my seat I noticed Becky bending over and pulling out a sheet of paper from a small stack. Her ass seemed quite fit for a woman around her late thirties. I noticed no ring on her left hand – so probably no husband. Even with her loose skirt on, one could tell she had the right curves.

            When she pulled the paper out, she looked backwards at me. My eyes instantly went to her face and I tried to give a friendly smile. Becky showed no emotion at my smile but sat down and said, “Alright let’s get started.”

            At first she just looked at the application and circled some things, and noted others. Then her voice caught my attention and asked, “Trey, how old are you?”

            “I’m 17.”

            “Do seventeen-year-olds always look at an older woman’s ass as she bends over?”

            Her question didn’t seem to sink in a first. I thought it was just nothing – not even real. But her questioning stare jolted my mind back to the suddenly bad situation at hand.

            “I… I didn’t realize I was staring. I’m sorry,” I stammered out.

            “So staring at an old ladies ass isn’t a normal thing for you?”

            Jeez, she just kept hammering the nail.

            “Well no, it’s not normal. But you’re definitely not an old lady. I wouldn’t say so.”

            With a smile now on her face she said, “Why thank you. Sorry to make it awkward for you. I’m just not used to young men giving me the look over.”

            Relief poured over me. And with relief came confidence. Becky was taking my staring as a compliment, which is always a good sign.

            “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by staring a little bit. That wasn’t my intention. I just saw beauty and looked a little longer than necessary.” Silky smooth, I thought to myself.

            There it was: a slight blush, biting of the bottom lip, eyes looking down. “I wasn’t close to being uncomfortable, but as for beauty, I wouldn’t call my behind anything beautiful.”

            “I’m sorry to say this, but you must be crazy. You are very beautiful. Whoever you are currently with is a very lucky guy.”

            “You are too nice.” With a slight frown, she added, “But sadly, I’m not with anyone right now.”

            At this point I figured what the hell. I couldn’t care less if I didn’t get this job or not. I was bound to get a call from the other stores. Might as well swing for the fences while I’m at the plate with nothing to lose.

            “Is there anything I could do to help you out?” I asked, with a wink at the end of the question.

            Becky licked her upper lip - slightly, stood up and started walking over to me. “Yes, just sit still and let me get something I’ve missed out on for awhile now.”

            Grand fucking slam.

            She knelt down in front of me and slid her hand from my knees to my belt buckle. Her hand shook with anticipation as the belt was undone and the pants were unbuttoned. I stood up when she was done, and let her pull down both my boxers and pants. She was a very eager cock sucker, that’s for sure. My right hand held tightly to the desk as my left fell to my side, then to the back of her head as she took my dick into her mouth.

            She swirled her tongue around and around, then pulled off my cock and began licking from the base to the mushroom head. Becky’s right hand held my shaft as her left switched from tossing her hair back, to softly rubbing my balls. I was pretty much in heaven. I say pretty much because right after I thought that, she took my whole cock into her mouth, then her throat and sent her muscles massaging my dick. Then I was in heaven.

            She continued her licking and sucking for a few minutes before I felt that magnificent feeling creeping around down below. Looking down at her complete interest in sucking my dick, I figured she’d know exactly when to be ready – so I didn’t say anything. A moment later, the rushing began and with a deep breath (I’m not a loud guy when I cum) I let loose into her mouth.  Her left hand must have felt the activity because she immediately took just the head into her mouth, placed it on her tongue and opened wide – eyes directly on me as her right hand stroked up and down.

            Shot after shot went into her mouth, the first three going straight back, with the couple more letting go directly on her tongue. When I was pretty much done, and pretty much laying on the desk due to my legs giving out, she close her lips around my head, cleaned me up and opened her mouth to show me my destruction. Winking at me, she closed her mouth and I saw her Adam’s apple move up then down. I got the drift.

            “Your are truly incredible,” I pretty much gasped – my breath was just being caught again.

            “Why thank you Trey. And you are the perfect size ( 7 inches or so, just to give you the picture).”

            “Now it’s my turn.” I took her hand and helped her up from her knees, then sat her down on the couch, facing out. Getting down on my knees, I pulled of my shirt, hiked up her skirt and pulled down a pair of white lace panties. Oh my god, I thought to myself, she shaves. And sure enough there were her smooth lips glistening with some moisture already.

            My face dove forward, and her hands took hold of her thighs to help keep them apart. First I started off just kissing around her sex, teasing her a bit. Her reactions of complete need excited me like no other. But her three simple words of, “Lick me now!” put my priorities straight. Using my fingers I spread her lips apart and worked my tongue along the outside, just outside of her clit, but not touching. Keeping this rhythm going, I switched hands between one rubbing her inner thigh, and the other spreading the lips for my working tongue. Hearing her moans growing louder, I kept her pussy open with one hand and the other gently brushed her clit.

            Becky’s hands let go of her thighs and started pulling off her shirt and bra. But being the focused worker I am, I let my tongue slide down to her hole. First just licking around it, but then diving forward, spearing her like a dick.

            “Ohhhh, fuck yeah. Oh my god, fuck me with your tongue honey,” her moans were low but I heard them just fine.

            Driving in and out with my tongue I looked up to see her top was off, and her fingers of each hand were twisting the nipple of a tit. She was close, I could tell. Becky’s eyes were closed, bottom lip was white from being bitten down on, and her whole body was red. Now I made my move.

            My right hand and tongue switched places quickly. I took her clit in between my lips and flicked it back and forth with my tongue, while my index finger slid easily into her pussy.

            “Ohh, fuck, fuck fuck. OH please don’t stop. EVER!” She said quite loudly. A part of me didn’t want her to be heard, but another wanted for us to be found.

            After sliding in and out I put in two fingers – which brought her over the top. A slow hum was coming out of her mouth, her fingers pinched down hard, and her thighs brought a prison of flesh down around my head. Luckily I got a deep breath in before darkness closed in on me.

            I kept slight movements going throughout her orgasm, keeping the pleasure flowing – but not enough to go over the top. When she finally settled down, she was back to life in an instant.

            “You. Fuck. Me. Now.” Becky ordered at me as she stood up and bent over the back of the chair. “Go fast and hard babe, I need this so fucking bad.”

            To say I argued would be the largest overstatement ever. I practically ran at her and drove my cock in. I got behind her, grabbed her waist in my left, and directed the course of action with my right. With a slight push my head was in, and a moan came out.

            “All the way, all the way,’ she panted. But she wouldn’t get it that easily, no, no.

            Slowly, inch by inch, I moved my cock into her. Of course she tried to speed up the process, but I kept a firm two-handed grip on her ass. When her glorious ass cheeks met my thighs, then I started what she wanted. Fast. I immediately move back than forward and repeated again and again. I don’t think she got in another breath before it was pushed out through a low growl.

            Luckily Becky had a firm stance and a good grip; otherwise the chair would have toppled over. I think the only reason an alarm in the store didn’t go off was because her office was so far in the back of the store. But I’d imagine some customer heard a chorus of moans that wasn’t from the jazzy radio playing over the speakers.

            Slap after slap, my thighs met her ass. What a sight: dick appears, pussy tries to pull it back, pussy succeeds, dick disappears, ass cheeks ripple. In the middle of this, she took her left leg and put it onto the seat of the chair. Wow, I had such a better drive with this new gain in plowing distance. Although marginal – it added up. Plus her body rose more upright, causing us to come to almost touching. I slowly slide my hand up the back of her ass cheeks, through the taunt muscles of her back, over her sides, and the up her front. Both hands grasped a tit, and that is when I realized that she is stacked! I had more than a handful, and her nipples were just the right length when hard. I felt her hand come up and close over my hands, holding them to her tits – so I slowed down a bit. I didn’t want her falling over or anything.

            Kissing the back of her neck, I began to slide my hands from underneath hers (which promptly clasped onto her mounds of pleasure) and ran them down her stomach. I reached the thigh junction, rubbed the inside thighs for a moment (all happening while still driving my fuck stick into her wanting pussy) then cupped her pussy. Left hand fingers found her clit and rubbed away, while my right index and middle fingers rubbed around my cock and her hole.

            About three strokes later she started humming really low, again. I knew what this meant by now and sped up my rhythm. I was close to cumming myself, but not the same time as her. While she road out her climax, I continued pumping away.

            “Mmmm, oh god. Fuck. Are you almost there?” She asked between breaths.

            “Yeah, where do you want it?” I answered.

            With a squeal she said, “Just let it go inside of me, I’m on the pill for my periods. Fill me up babe.”

            I didn’t think a response in words was needed. I just gave her everything I had left in a burst of speed and a moment later drove in hard and stayed there. Spurt after spurt filled her up. A nice warm feeling flooded her pussy (“oohh god, that feels so good” –Becky) and a pumped a little bit to keep things flowing.

            When I was done, and my knees were stable, I slide out of her. The moment I was out though, she was down on her knees again. A manager, a cleaning lady, and a cum lover. If I get hired, I would be in a dream land.

            “You’re good to go,” Becky said when she was done licking all traces of me off of… me.

            “Was my interview a success?” I asked with a grin.

            Standing up with hands on her hips she said, “Be here tomorrow when the store opens at 9 a.m. And be ready for more questions about how well you can handle the job.” I noticed a trickled of my cum starting to slide down her inner right thigh.

            I might just like my new job, in a dream land.

After the shower, he cuffed me to the bed and made me sleep there for the night.  At about 4 in the morning, i woke up to find him mounting me again like he did before

This is my first story here and it was entierly true. Email me at caseynidetch@hotmail.com with any tips

 

Diane would get into her mothers make-up and put some on while her mother was gone, Ann seeing went to Diane and asked if she could help her put it on, Diane was excited about this because she loved the way Ann wore her make-up.

 

After Ann did Diane’s hair and make-up, she then found a beautiful short dress of her moms and she put it on.  Ann thought it was great how Diane felt so beautiful just from having her hair and make-up done; Ann said you now look just like a model.  Diane expressed to Ann that some day she would love to be a beautiful model.  Ann said” I’m sure you will be if you put your mind to it, it will come true”.

 

Diane found herself using more and more of her mom’s make-up and going thru her mom’s clothes.  Of course they were too big for her never the less it was fun to dress like mom.  Ann started to baby-sit more and more and Diane’s parents felt more comfortable leaving them over night with Ann babysitting. 

 

Ann enjoyed chatting online with others and she started to use the computer at Diane’s house.  Diane being close with Ann started to sit in the same room with her while she chatted online.  Diane and Ann started to chat with some of the guys online, and one of them suggested that Diane should play dress up with her mom’s clothes like she had done many times before.  Without thinking, Diane changed into one of her mom’s skirts and blouse.  I looked so funny in it, because of how big mom’s clothes were.  Ann saw that Diane did not put a camisole under the blouse and she could see Diane’s training bra.  Ann told the guy she was chatting with he suggested that Diane should pretend to model the clothes, he sent Diane and Ann some pictures of girls modeling clothes and Diane decided that it would be fun to do that.

 

Then the man said that Diane should model in her underwear.  Diane said “NO WAY” Ann said that no one but her would see.  When Diane was not going to do it, the man sent them a picture of a girl Diane’s age that was modeling in her underwear.  Seeing that others do it, Diane didn’t think it would hurt and she took off moms skirt and blouse.

 

The man said that Ann should do it too so that Diane would not feel alone modeling.  Diane saw that Ann had very pretty matching panties and bra; she wished that she had a pair like that.  Ann took hers off while Diane turned her head away, but Ann said it was ok for her to look, so Diane turned back and watched Ann undress.  Ann found some sexy lingerie in Diane’s mom’s drawer and she put them on, while Diane put on Ann’s matching purple bra and panty set.  Ann’s panties were a little big but not as big as her mom’s so they looked cute on her anyway.  Also, Ann had on a padded size “B” cup and it made Diane look like she had boobs and she was excited about that.  Ann noticed that Diane kept rubbing her hand on the bra cups, she had to tell her how beautiful she looked wearing her underwear.  The man kept sending other pictures for Diane to model after, and for every one that was sent Diane made that pose while Ann watched and told the man what Diane was doing. 

 

This soon became a usual activity when Ann came over to baby-sit.  Not only did Diane look forward to having Ann over but Ann also looked forward to them weekends too.  The would get back on line with the man, he would send more pictures of girls, and Diane would pose like the models in the pictures, before long the man said that we should try posing naked, and send some pictures of girls posing naked.  Ann said it was ok so Diane posed naked this time, after awhile he sent some pictures of girl models posing together and touching each other.   He said we had to practice posing like that to be a good model.  Ann said she was game for it, so I said I would do it too. 

 

First it was just holding each other, and then one was of girls kissing while wearing their underwear.  Ann and Diane posed as the girls did in the pictures and found it was not so bad kissing another girl. 

 

The hard part was when one girl had her hand inside the other girls panties, Ann quickly made that pose with Diane and put her hand in Diane’s panties and Diane was so scared she did not know what to do.  Ann asked her if she wanted her to take her hand out.  Diane knew it felt good she could not say a word, so Ann kept her hand there and started to move it around and feeling her down there even more.

 

Ann could feel that Diane did not have much hair to speak of down there she started to rub and wanted to get a closer look, Ann put her face closer to Diane’s panties and did like one of the picture showed.  Ann put her mouth down there too, Diane was now truly scared but new it felt good, she just laid back and let Ann blow warm air and lick thru her panties.

 

Since then Diane has been thinking a lot about how it felt and finds that looking at other girls makes her think more about what happened and she now can not wait for the next time Ann comes to baby-sit her baby brother.