I wanted to caress her as she caressed me, but I hesitated. I was afraid that she would guess about my inexperience, and that inexperience hurt me to ...lease her really. Her body trembled in anticipation. I closed my eyes and dropped my head to her anus and pussy. She had shaved them, leaving a little hair at the pubic hair, the taste of her smooth beautiful skin there reminded me of something salty-sweet and unobtrusive. She literally floated in the viscous juice of lust, and I just had to pick. A week or so later I was standing in Martha Jane's kitchen as her mother, a thin lady who looked much older than my own and who resembled her darker brunette daughter more than her fair, auburn haired Martha Jane, carefully handed me a large tablespoon filled with dark green syrup. Her mother always spoke slowly and with a slight rasp, having never completely overcome the lung problems that she developed from the long and severe illness following her husband's death in the war."There," she told. More

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