The shock and shame onhis face scared her so much; she vowed never to showher secret sexual fantasy again. However, now that Earlwas dead, she didn...217;t really consider “head,” as theyoung men working at The Cruiser called it, sex. Shedefined sex as the act of procreation. If she was notpenetrated by a penis, it didn’t count. In other words, Helen loved to suck dick. She loved thetaste. She loved to make it squirt. Most importantlythough, she loved the way a hard cock felt. Back then, we washed the baby’s diapers because we didn’t have the throwaway kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts-- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.But that young lady is right; we didn’t have the “green thing” back in our day.Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV. She is however respected and that counts for a lot more in my book.She is also more beautiful than ever. Whether that is because she's matured or happy, I don't know ... or care. She still turns heads but it no longer goes to hers.Mr. Kopolova has a lot more active role in the new company. We have yet to make a taxable profit, but that has a lot to do with the prosthetic research department that was soon added, although my inexperience was no doubt a factor too. Mr. Kopolova seems happy with. I raise my ass enough for you to pull up the back of my skirt.You pull my tiny panties to one side and gently rub my pussy with a wet finger, I squirm against your hand, your finger slides all the way in, Ummff!, my clit twitches. soaking my lace panties.I moan as you begin to move your finger rhythmically over my p-spot, waves of pleasure crashing through my body, rivers of precum flowing from my clit.You pull your finger out of my spasming pussy, push between my legs, cup my tiny, soaking.