The television and lights were shut off in record fashion. I started to turn off the lights on the Christmas tree but Carrie stopped me."This is nice,... she said dreamily. "You know, the last two years I didn't even put a Christmas tree. I didn't see the point since there was no one there to enjoy it but me."I nodded because I knew if it hadn't been for the kids I would have dispensed with it years ago — or at least moved to an artificial one I could stash in the attic, fully adorned, for next. I gave his fingers a little squeeze with my pussy, just to say hi (as it were) but in another few seconds the train had left the tunnel and was puling into Hassocks station. In the process of fingering me, he had lifted my skirt and I now needed to perform a demure wiggle to get it back into place. I started looking around discretely to try to spot my molester, and then I realized who it was--the old bloke (mid-sixties?) with the RAF mustache. How did I know it was him, you may ask. Well, two. She turned around and squatted a little bit and spread her ass cheeks apart and pushed her pussy right into my face. I stuck my tongue right into her and she reached back and grabbed my head to hold it in place while she pushed even harder onto me. I licked as hard and as fast as I could and grabbed her hips with my hands so I could move her ass and pussy into any direction. She reached down and rubbed her clit and I licked her pussy inside and out. When I started working my way to her ass, she. That meant that many summer mornings I would wake up with a young, blonde beauty lying beside me, her lush body naked and her nipples erect and vulva bulging and her eyes wonderfully vacant. Hell of a way to start the day, but I'd mount her and enjoy her and empty my balls in her and then tell my father how it went and how it could be better. I didn't know it, but he was schooling me for this job.By the time I was in high school, and perfectly capable of finding and enjoying my own sweet.
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