I avoid my mirrored eyes and gaze down so that I can ogle my truly naked pleasure pot. Moving closer, I look at pores that have not been clear of grow...th since before puberty. My folds sit slightly parted, their crinkled edges bending inwards as if trying to hide from my leering gaze. I place a few drops of oil on my fingers and begin to polish my vulva with the viscous liquid, gently working the balm into the flesh to cool the slight burning sensation created by the shaving action itself. I. She was of course. She had never crossed any lines as a girl. She didn’t drink. She was respectful and above all maintained her good name. Her mother slowly inserted her finger in her vagina, making sure that hymen was still intact. It was nothing sexual. But Radha could feel a new kind of feeling generating in her, something she knew was forbidden, something she knew was wrong to feel. After checking it, her mother dressed her. She wore a white lace bra, with matching panties. She was adorned. Just like the plastic-titted peroxide blondes you rub yourself raw to. No. It’s clear that if I’m going to get orgasms from you I’m going to have to take them.” I drop the clothes pin and grab his nipple with thumb and forefinger, pinching hard, pulling it up and twisting it brutally before letting it spring back to his chest. The yowl this produces vibrates down my spine, something about the pitch, the strangled attempt to try and avoid sounding too “girly” produces just the tone to resonate. "You sound beautiful. I'd love to see a picture of you. What color are your eyes?"Jen typed back. "I have green eyes." She turned back to Michael. "What should I do, he wants to see a picture of me. Should I tell him I don't have any? " No, wait!" Michael clicked on a folder and found a picture of Jen in a short black dress. Her slim legs were crossed and she was showing a lot of thigh. Michael went into Photoshop and blacked out her eyes. Before Jen could object, he attached the photo and hit.