And she lets me in, her own tongue hesitant and soft. She tastes like mint. Her hands push lightly against me, like she wants me to stop, but I'm over...owering her, and her pushes are weak, kittenish, and then they still.I run my hand up under her shirt, moaning at the soft, hot skin before cupping her breast. My fingers are rough, rushed, brushing her nipple until it hardens against my palm. My breath shudders out of me and I run a hand, trembling along her body, sliding it under the waistband. It was a cool day in early march, the little league season was fresh and new and the football season was over, but the guys were still managing a game. I sat as usual with a magazine and even though it was just your typical teen read, the semi erotic pictures already had my mind and body wandering. I tried to listen to my mother and her rambunctious friend Melinda talk about everything but sports, yet I could only hear my young womanhood yearn and glimpse the boys run their plays in their. More

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