"Lawfully wedded nymph" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hotey Don K.)

CHAPTER TWO

"You were Homecoming Queen, weren't you?" Julie asked. "Yeah," I said, dumping the dirty dishes into the sink, "but that was done by popular vote." "You don't want to spend the rest of your life slinging hash, do you?" Julie asked "It hasn't done bad by you," I said. Julie had a nice house overlooking the Marina and she wore nice clothes and drove a new bad Buick. "I didn't do it slinging hash," she said. "These big spenders here think a nickel tip is generous. I did it with my first husband's insurance money, honey." "Well, there's that," I said. "I guess 1 can get married." "Shit, to one of these local yokles?" "What else?" "You could go to college." "Shit," I said. "Sure," she said. Old man Worths put up a thou- 29 sand dollars scholarship for the Mackerel Queen." She put out her cigarette and looked at me. "And you and I both know that who old man Worth says is Mackerel Queen is Queen." "Yeah," I said. "And this year it's going to be Selena Smith." She was still haunting me. Jesus, I lorded it over her. I rode that fucking float and looked down. I'd made my dress. I started working as a waitress in Julie's place when I was fourteen and had enough money to buy a few things and look pretty good, so I bought material and made the dress and I thought I looked good, and looking at the pictures, I know I looked good. Virginal. With all the black studs on the football team standing around grinning. But you know, not one of them ever talked it, as far as I know. I heard that Roalt put the fear of God into them, threatening to whup their asses if any one of them talked. "Maybe, she said, grinning. "Doesn't your brother work for old man Worth?" I nodded. Ruf had gone to work for the Worth fishing fleet and was running a commercial fishing boat for old man Worth. "Gets along all right with Worth, doesn't he?" "I guess so," I said. "Let's see what we can do," she said. I forgot all about it and begin to think about, maybe, taking off. I had a few dollars saved. I wasn't bad to look at. I thought about maybe New Orleans. Or New York. I was still dating Bill Murphy. He picked me up and I went out to his place, his parents were away, and had a shower to get the smell of trench fries out of my hair. Then I put on a bathing suit I kept in Bill's car and we went to the beach and had a couple of beers. I didn't drink much, because, at eighteen, I was at the peak of SO my figure. I mean, when a girl matures early, she has to start watching the calories. Then when I went into work the next day there was Julie grinning at me. "Honey, if I'm wrong, tell me," she said, "but I get the idea that you're not above using certain feminine weapons to advance yourself, huh?" I thought I knew what she meant. "I don't sell it, Julie," I said. "O.K." She was grinning like a possum. "I talked to old man Worth last night." She wouldn't say any more, but at mid-afternoon old man Worth came in. He was the daddy rabbit of the fishing industry in Old Town, and fishing was all Old Town had going for it. He owned a fleet of boats, shrimpers, trappers and charter boats. He was the cat who lived in the big white house on the top of the hill, the richest man in Old Town. He owned stores and houses and the docks and what he said went. I served him, doing my best smile and waiting for either him or Julie to say something. It was Julie who said it. "Go clean up a little, honey," she said. "Mr. Worth wants to take you for a boat ride. I looked at her. The evening business was coming up and she'd be rushed without me, but I shrugged and went back, washed, brushed my hair and came out. Mr. Worth was standing at the door. He was short, thin, grey. He had never been known to smile in public. He had the reputation of being a shrewd man, a man who'd cut your throat for a dollar. He wore clean work pants and a light blue shirt all the time. He was, probably, in his sixties, although I didn't know for sure. He was spry, active. He could work with the best of them. Julie caught me by the arm as I walked out. "Play it right, kid, and you're in."

I followed Worth to the docks, across the street from the restaurant, and he stood back to let me board his big old cabin cruiser first. I'd seen it and looked at it and had never been on it. He unlocked the hatch, still without having spoken a word to me directly. I looked in and saw a cabin with carpets and all sorts of fancy fittings. There was a set of twin bunks forward, neatly made. Worth was starting the engines and throwing off lines. I stood and watched. He backed her out expertly, wheeled her out of the Marina and headed for the inlet. "You're Juby Gore's girl," he said as the lovely old boat began to pitch with the first of the bar breakers. "Sorry sonofabitch." "You know him," I said. "Your brother's a good man." "Yeah," I said, thinking of Ruf in a different way and laughing to myself, wondering what old man Worth would think if he knew how I knew Ruf was a good man. "We'll have to send you shopping for some clothes," he said. I gulped. Hell, he was sounding as if he owned me. "Our Queen is sexy but proper." • "Surer* I said, gulping again. I'd attended some of the Mackerel Festival doings in the past and the beauty contest was run like all others, with the girls parading in bathing suits and gowns and the judges making notes. Now it seemed that I was Mackerel Queel even before the Festival started. "I'll give Julie the money and Pearl Phelps will go with you to do the shopping." 1 knew Pearl. She ran a little shop in town. She was a single girl, about thirty-five, I'd guess, good looking in a sort of way, big, blond, brassy. She was always advising the girls who entered beauty contests from Old Town

and once had carried an Old Town girl all the way to the state pageant I felt a little strange, as if I'd waked into a dream or something. It was all too easy. Old man Worth wasn't talking. He stood at the wheel, taking the old cruiser offshore at about twenty knots. The fishing fleet would be working well off and the shrimpers were down the beach. Ahead of us was a stretch of ocean which was not often traversed by boats, since there was no good bottom there for shrimping or fishing. We were about four miles off and the ocean was rolling gently and we were all alone when Worth cut the engines, pushed a pully which dropped anchor and the old boat swung to the chain. "You don't have to undress fully," he said, looking at me unsmiling. "Come down when I call you." I stood on the deck looking around, getting myself psyched for screwing an old man. I was thinking of Selena Smith's face when the master of ceremonies at the Mackerel Queen Beauty Parade said, "And the winner is . . ." Then I heard Worth calling my name. "Ruby. Ruby." I opened the hatch and walked into the bad cabin, wild, soft carpet, curtains at the windows. The door to the forward bunk cabin was also closed. I opened it. He was lying on the port side cot, buck neeeked, except for one ladies shoe. It was an old fashioned thing they used to call a pump, thin, high heels, arched sole. He was wearing it on his cock, I mean, it was over his cock and he was holding it with both hands. His cock was big enough to fill it and as I walked in he drove his hips up and punched his cock into the shoe, pushing the head of it all the way up into the pointed toe. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

He looked up and said, "1 think this will fit you." I stood there sort of thunderstruck and he made an impatient sound, threw the shoe at me and said, "Put it on." I kicked off my waitress clodhoppers and tried the pump. It was tight, but O.K. He tossed the other. His cock was big enough. It was hard and blue-veined and the head of it was sort of purple. It looked as hard as his body. He was a well preserved old fart. I was in my waitress white with the pumps making my feet fee! swollen, standing beside the bunk. He sat up, bent, began to rub the shoes on my feet. He guided rae to the other bunk and I lay back and he picked up my feet and started rubbing his cheeks on the shoes. He kissed the soles of them. All this time he didn't touch me at all, just the shoes. After a few minutes of that, he sighed, fell onto the other bunk, and motioned to me. I started to take off my clothes. "No," he said. "Up here." He indicated that I was to stand on the bunk. I took my position, thinking that he wanted to look up my dress, but he didn't. He put his hands on my feet and lifted one foot and placed it on his cock. He had the shoe's insole cradled over the bulge of his cock and he rolled it around. "Stand on it," he said. "Honey, I weigh a hundred and twenty pounds," I said. "Just do as you're told." "Well," I said, standing with part of my weight on his cock. He began to squirm and moan. "Let all your weight on it," he said. I stood on one foot, holding onto things. I was crushing his poor cock under the shoe. The sharp heel was digging into his groin. He was moaning as if in pain. He 34 began to make blubbering sounds and I eased off. He opened his eyes and said, very cool, "I want you to walk on me. All over. Don't be afraid you'll hurt me." So I walked. I put my weight on the fucking shoes and the sharp, heels dug in and left bruises and red spots and he guided me with his hands on the shoes up and down his chest, making the sharp heels bite into his hard little male tits and then down until I was standing with both feet on his hard cock, the shoes hurting him like hell and he was blubbering and saying, "No, mama, no, mama, please, mama." And all of a sudden he came and white come squished up, held back by the weight of the damned shoes with me behind them, caught in the vein of his cock, oozing out slowly, his cock pumping and him blubbering and crying out, "Oh, no moma." I eased off and the come gushed out and he cried and then he used his hands on my ankles to ease me off. His body was a mass of red spots from the heels. He sat up. "Thank you," he said. "Now, please leave me alone for a few minutes." When he came out he was composed. He was dressed in the work clothes. He did not speak or smile. I went back to work. I was one puzzled chick. That night Julie handed me four hundred dollars and said, "Hi, Miss Queen." I went out and made Bill fuck me in the back seat of his car before it got dark, parked on the river road. He gave me a good ride and I had a nice one, but I couldn't forget that poor bastard wanting me to mutilate him with those fucking sharp shoes and standing on his cock and all. But old man Worth was not my last surprise in the great and glorious Mackerel Festival. Next day I was given the day off and Pearl Phelps picked me up in her 35 GTO and we drove to the big town and went shopping. We started with underwear and Pearl bought things which I'd never been able to afford, fancy pants, the most expensive bras which felt like no bra at all. Then we started on outfits and I was out of my head with joy when we drove back to Old Town with not just four hundred bucks worth of finery, but about six hundred, for Pearl had had a few bucks stashed for me, too, just in case the four wasn't enough. We went to Pearl's place, a nice old house on the river. She had me strip and began to try on things. She helped and at first I didn't think much when her hand would brush my tit or my fanny when I was taking on and off the glamorous outfits we'd picked out. Then I began to notice that she was breathing hard. It was funny. She was acting like a stud who hadn't had any for a year, looking at my bod in bikini panties with the lust in her eyes so unmistakable that even though I'd never seen a real live lesbian before I knew what was on her mind. Now me, I'm always interested in learning something new, and after a while, when nothing developed, I was wondering what she was going to do, just stand there and tremble and snort through her nose or make a play for me. She had me in a bathing suit and was fingering the bra and the fit and brushing my exposed skin and about to burn up, I damned well knew. Her hands were trembling. She was flushed. She pulled out the bra and peeked down at my dark, hard nipple snuggled inside the bra. "Is it comfortable?" she asked. She almost choked on the words. "Is there anything wrong?" I asked. "Oh, no," she said. "It's just that . . ." She'd been so nice to me during the shopping, giving 36 me tips all along on how to walk and talk and hold myself. She knew what she was doing. I felt sorry for her. I pulled off the bathing .suit and stood there in the buff. "I'm worried about my hips," I said. "Are they too big?" She looked at them with hunger in her eyes. She had to feel them before she gave an opinion and her hands were warm and so very, very tender. "No," she gasped. "No They're . . . they're beautiful." "And my breasts?" I asked. "Are they firm enough?" Wow. She almost went through the ceiling. She looked at them. I turned, thrust out my chest. I put one hand under my left breast and held it up. "Does it need support?" She swallowed. "Feel it," I said. "See if it's firm enough." "Oh," she said, eyeing the boob, reaching out a trembling hand. "Oh," she gasped, as her hand cupped it, fondled it, held it with such tender, loving care that I felt it all the way to my ovaries. "Oh, God, Ruby," she cried. "Honey," I said, "it's all right. It's all right." "Do you know what you're saying?" she asked, her hand still on boob left. "Yes," I whispered. I put my hand up and put it over hers and squeezed, cupping hers more firmly over my tit. "I don't know what you want, but it's all right." "Oh God," she moaned, moving toward me, pushing her warm, clothed body against my nakedness, her arms going around me. "Oh, Ruby, if I do anything, say anything . . . just tell me . . . oh, God, she was moaning and then her hands were soft and caressing my back, going down to cup rny buttocks, smooth their way up. I was feeling sort of groovy. She knew how a woman likes to be felt up, and she was doing it beautifully. I 37 just stood there, eyes closed, taking It all la. She had a tantalizing, tickling touch. When she fingered my boobs and my belly I felt a trembling want creep into me and I licked my lips and opened my eyes to see her face just an inch away and then, without thinking much about it, I went after it, pushing my mouth to hers to have a very sweet, lingering kiss. "It doesn't offend you?" she whispered, her lips close to mine. "It's kind of fun," I said, "but I don't know how." "I'll show you, darling," she whispered, kissing me again, her hands going up to cup my boobs and squeeze the nipples tenderly. "Oh, yes, Pearl will show you." She guided me into her bedroom and pushed me down. I lay on my back and watched her undress. She had a nice womanly body, all plush. She had great tits. She came to me and instead of pouncing me like a guy would have done she began to tease me with her finger tips, feeling every curve of my body, sending the most delicious tickling sensations all over me. That woman knew about nerves that I didn't even know existed and she went to work on every, one of them, finding them in my arms, my tunny, on my thighs, on my legs, even on my feet. Then she started working on me with her soft, hot, damp lips and it was like fire and ice all over me as she kissed my shoulders, my breasts, my belly, my thighs, my knee-backs, my instep. Then she rolled me over. It wasn't like being with a guy. With a guy, I'd have been stabbed long before and would have worked off one or two climaxes by the time she rolled me over and began to show me that a girl's backside, from top to bottom, can make one mass of nerves which send signals to the little ball of nerves down there at the top of the slit. I mean, that woman had me crawling the walls. I 38 mean, it was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to me. She kissed every inch of my back and then began to work on my ass and when she bit it gently I moaned and drove my clit into the bed to get a feeling and then she was pushing her face down between my cheeks and her tongue found my little brown anus and sent me writhing. I'd had no idea that the anus was a sexy spot, but the way Pearl worked on it, it definitely was. I went ape. I bucked and fought and then she reached down with her tongue, between my legs, and punched the softness of my vulva and suddenly I wanted something there. I rolled over and said, "Jesus, Pearl," and my ass was doing a wild little dance and I was getting a bit paniced because I'd been hot before, but never that hot and Pearl didn't have an inch of cock for me. Only that same equipment I had, a pussy. But she soon showed me there were more ways than one to skin a cat as the old saying goes. I was humping and moaning, my legs coming open, begging for something, and I got it. I got Pearl's nice face down there between my legs. Would you believe that I'd never been eaten before? I mean Juby and Ruf were hardly the sophisticates. They joked about eating pussy but they thought it was something only queers or something did and they were whim-wham-thank-you-mam types who knew only one thing, get that cock in there as fast as possible. And the boys I'd known were young and just about the same way, so I'd never been eaten before until sweet Pearl went down on me, burying her face in my nest, crying out in joy as her mouth opened wide and sucked labia and all into it and tiny teeth began to devour my labia and then that wonderous tongue went out and flicked my clit and I cried out and she left me coming and kissed me real

hard, her lips pushing down as I humped and fucked her sweet mouth and had a glorious one. "Good, darling?" she asked. "Ow, wow," I said. "Don't stop now." She giggled and went to work. She had the most educated tongue. It could whip back and forth a thousand times a minute, lashing my clit into wild, swollen orgasms and then driving hard and long into my cunt to make me feel as if I were being eaten and flicked at the same time and when she was through with me I was panting and weak. I said, "Whooo, you've done me in." Then I looked at her. She had this sweet smile on her face. She'd made it so good for me I began to wonder what she'd gotten out of it. She had her hand lightly on my curved hip and was rubbing softly. "This is the first time I've done it with a girl," I said. "Did you like it?" "I thought it was great," I said honestly, "but I'm wondering what you got out of it." "Oh, darling," she said sort of swooning. "No, really, you didn't get anything, just a lot of making me say oh, eeee, ah." She smiled. I liked her smile. She didn't look so brassy after I'd had her lips all over my bod. She looked sort of sweet and soft. "I had mine." she said. "How?" I was genuinely curious. "I mean, if a guy had been doing those things to me he wouldn't have come. I mean, he'd have had to put it in me." "Don't you remember when I did this?" She rolled up beside me and pressed her pussy on my thigh. I remembered, then, that she'd pressed it against me at the height of my fun. "Remember?" "Is that all?" I giggled. You must be some hot gal." 40 She kissed my left tit and the little begger responded, the nipple rising. "There are better ways, but I didn't know if you'd like them." Her hand had gone down and where I thought there was only a dead thing, there at the top of my slit, her lovely little fingers made life, causing the clit to swell up with blood and get tingly again. "Tell me," I said. "You could, ah, do to me what, ah, I did to you," she said in a small, scared little voice. Hell, I was game. I'd never done it. In fact, never having had any real friends among the female sex, I didn't know much about girls except by examining myself, and even at that age I knew that I wasn't typical. "You'll have to tell me how," I said. She was about to swoon out of her hide. I mean, when I put my hands out and tentatively felt of her boobs she began to tremble and make little sounds in her throat. Now I've always liked the female body. I mean, I'd look at the nudies in the magazines Ruf and Sam would have around, and if the gal was well glommed together I'd thinkj wow, what a beautiful thing. I've found, since, that I'm a little inclined to what they call narcissusism, which means that I like myself and think I've got a great bod. I don't see anything wrong with that. I mean, if you don't like yourself, then who the hell is going to? Well, Pearl was a grown woman, full, maybe a teeny little bit too plush, but she had this great set of knockers, making up two great, soft mounds on her chest. She had nipples which would have fit into a thirty-two A cup bra, I mean they were huge. And when I fingered them they swelled up and became little pointed knobs on the huge, white mounds of her tits and I got curious. Every boy I'd ever been out with had liked to do a little 41 titty chewing and I felt, then, that they couldn't be all wrong about it, so I went down and took a taste. She tasted of clean skin and a mild nice little perfume and the tits had this nice texture and I tried it all ways. I mean, I knew how I liked to have mine treated, so I gave her what I'd always wanted. First, after just nipping the nipples into swelling life with my teeth, I ran my tongue, flat, all over the big boobs and paid special attention to the dark circles and the nipples and all of a sudden she was flopping around on the bed like a fish. I sucked all I could into my mouth, and since I like to have mine treated a little rough now and then, I treated hers rough, biting and sucking and pulling. She began to moan and I started feeling her up, running my hand over her lush woman's body and thinking how much fun mean old men must have, feeling all that sweet goodness. She got so wild I had to sort of put my body on hers to hold her down and, wow, when I did that, she scooted under me and pressed her pelvic mound on mine and started fucking like a mink. She was reaching for my mouth with hers and I kissed her and it was a sweet, very wet kiss. All that action down there rubbing against my mound and my clit had me making sounds, too, and the first thing I knew we were coming together and laughing and clinging and then lying there, sweet and warm. "You're an easy lay," I giggled. "You went so fast I didn't even get a chance to feel this up." I put my hand down onto her pussy and it was soft and hot and wet. "Ohhhh," she moaned, lifting her hips to drive the cup of her cunt into my hand. I don't remember a time in my life when I wasn't making it. I mean, I guess I was born with the ability to 42 get my rocks off. You know, the faead-shrinkers have determined that babies, especially girl babies, are bom with sexual awareness. If you don't believe me try this. I'm not advising you to corrupt a baby, but to conduct a scientific experiment. If you have a girl baby or change diapers for someone else's girl baby, just take your finger and gently, ever so gently, play with that tiny little twat. I've seen it. The baby will be kicking and cooing and wiggling around and looking all over the place and when you put your finger down there and rub gently she'll get ever so still. I started so early I don't remember the first time I made myself come with a wet, soapy washcloth in the bath water, or with a pillow thrust between my legs and, later, with my own hands. I took a while to discover screwing, but after my operation, sort of complicated D.N.C. with extras, which made me permanently sterile, juby found out and knew that he'd never have to worry about making me a baby and he and RuЈ gave me my education. After that I didn't have to play with myself. If I got randy, all I had to do was twitch my butt in front of either my father or my brother and I was going to be serviced. Oh, I still played with myself a little, but a lot of the time I was just doing it to get my interest up so that when one of them topped me I'd be sure to get mine before they, being typical unsophisticated men and not concerned with a girl's pleasure, came like a rocket in a matter of seconds. I knew how I was built. I'd spend a few hours looking at myself in mirrors. I'd lie on a bed and hold a hand mirror down between my legs and study my twat and wonder at its complicated structure. I experimented with putting things into it. I tried a candle and found it 43 too hard. I tried a fresh cucumber, with the warts peeled off, and found it to be sort of fun, but nothing like having the real article in there. Once I saved my money, to order an artificial cock from one of Ruf's dirty books, but I never got around to it. I have had some experience with dildos and will tell you about them later, but there's nothing like a real cock. I'm sidetracked. I was talking about twats. My own twat, up to that day, was the only one I'd ever seen. I didn't know anything about twats in general. I was surprised to see that Pearl didn't have the fat, nice labia that I had. Her twat had little mounds on each side of the hole. I was fingering it and she was working up a head of steam again and I got really curious and put my head down so that I could see up close. I looked at the first twat I'd ever seen and it was an odd, sort of nice thing all dark and red and wet and I continued to feel it with my fingers. I traced the outline of the slit and found her clit and toyed with it, just feeling and getting to know how other women were built. Her lips were writhing and she was saying, "Oh, darling, Oh, Ruby." I ran my index finger up and felt inside. It had a hot, wet, mushy feel. The sides of it were spongy and had little imperfections. When I pressed around inside I could make the vaginal cavity expand. I could see, feeling it, how a cunt can expand and take the biggest cock available if you're careful. As I felt around inside, she began to hump. I gave her the social finger, because it coujd go in deeper. She was getting so hot and I was getting hot watching her get hot. She had told me to do to her what she'd done to me. Well, I'd eaten a couple of boys and I'd tasted my own pussy juice on them. So it was no new thing, pussy taste, except that hers was so clean and sweet. There 44 wasn't a hint of come there. I leaned in, put my mouth down, stuck out my tongue. I licked the clit and she tasted nice. There was woman taste and something else. "You taste funny," I said. "It's the feminine spray," she said. I said, "Huh?" "The feminine hygiene spray." "You mean a cunt deodorant?" I asked, giggling. "Yes. Don't you use one?" "We're sounding like a T.V. commercial," I giggled. "If you don't like the taste," she gasped, "I'll go wash." "Naw," I said, licking and feeling around with my tongue and making her ass twitch. I played with her for a while, using my tongue, and then, when she was gasping for air and making strangled sounds, I pressed my whole mouth into the cunt and gave it a huge kiss and put my tongue out and tried to run it up her hole. She screamed and a huge shudder went through her body. I had~ my tongue thrust in as far as I would go. I felt the inner muscles throb and pound and I knew she'd gone. Then she was tugging and pulling on me and I was sort of on my hands and knees over her, my behind up into her face and her gone tongue working on my anus, my slit, my pudenda. I kept on eating her, sort of liking it. Kissing a twat is sort of nice. It just sits there and lets you kiss it any way you want to. I mean, you can turn your mouth inside out and rub it on it, you can tongue it, you can lick it, and it just takes it and likes it and mine was really liking it with Pearl's educated mouth working and I came and went into a spasm it was so good and 'she moaned and yelled and came again and I came and then we were sort of exhausted. We lay there and I had a 45 nice little nap. When I woke up, Pearl was leaning on an elbow looking at mei "Oh, darling," she whispered. "I want to tell you how wonderful it was." "It wasn't bad," I agreed. "Better than with a man?" she asked, looking at me with a sort of heartbreak in her eyes. Well, I'm not much on lying. "I can't say that, Pearl," I told her. "It was fine and I really grooved on it, but there's something to be said for having a cock in here." I rubbed my twat and grinned. She shuddered and looked as if she were going to vomit. "I'm sorry, I said. "That's just the way it is." "All right, darling," she whispered. She got up. "We have work to do." We spent the evening learning how to walk. That is I learned how to walk. I thought I knew how, but Pearl said walking in a beauty contest or on a public appearance is something different. You walk proudly, briskly. You swing your arms just so. I walked up and down Pearl's living room until I was tired and when she was finally satisfied she started on my smile. Now smiling is easy. It just comes naturally. Unless you're standing in one place for twenty minutes, your back killing you, your shoes too tight, a million people out front staring at you. Then smiling can become damned hard work. I found out that, although I was a natural smiler, when I had to force a smile I looked sort of sick. She had me stand in one place, as if I were on a stage with the judges looking at me. She had me smile into a mirror and I saw what she was talking about. "Think of something pleasant," she said, "And smile 46 with the eyes, first. If the eyes look as if they're smiling, then the rest of the face is all right." I thought of Bill Murphy and being in the back seat of his car with my legs wide open, that first lovely moment of eniry when you're so hot your head is dizzy and your lungs can't get enough air and the whole body is trembling and iny eyes smiled. And then I thought of Roalt Fepperdine and the first time I'd opened my legs for him and how his cock was so huge and lovely and Pearl said, "Honey, you're a natural." So, baby, when you see me smile, when you see one of the T.V. commercials I've done, or see me on the stage, or signing autographs, just remember what I'm thinking. I'm thinking, maybe not of Bill or Roalt, because that's been a long time ago, but I'm thinking of cock. Cock in me. Cock lifting me into that nice, heavenly haze of sensuality. I'm turned on when I'm slyly smiling. And think what you're missing, huh?