My forefinger sought outthe silken inside of a thigh and a tender caress sent a zap of pleasure upmy spine. I did it again and there were more shocks,...though not asintense.I stopped for a moment and immediately wished I hadn't. The charge in mybody began to dissipate, my nipples started to soften and I could feel atiredness start to creep back in. So I pulled both hands up again to cupand caress my boobs, bringing the tips back to attention and letting thepressure build back between my legs. I. Atleast she had not inserted me in the oven after she had stuck thesepieces of cooking foil on me. "There we are." My mother cooed after shehad unfurled my hair and rinsed it with warm water. Alas I was mistakenabout being baked in an oven as she stuck me under a helmet and baked myhead. I think my hair was being pulled out by the roots after all. Theseinfernal plastic contraptions all tangled up in my hair were instrumentsof torture. I felt the need to confess to any indiscretion if only. More

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