Now, I liked kissing boys, in fact, most of my sexual experience has been kissing (not counting my brother), so I liked it a lot. But I liked it a lot...better with Susan. I don't know whether it was because she was a girl, because it was so taboo, or simply because she was a better kisser, which were all true, but whatever the reason, it just melted me. My hand, as if detached from the rest of me, slid into her shirt to caress her slightly larger breasts even as I felt one of her knees parting. “You are a bad girl, my Love. A very bad girl” he says. “You are wet.” There will be punishment. Of course. Rising from his knees he took me by the hand and sat on the futon, pulling me around and laying me over his knee as for a spanking. But he did not spank me. Again he handled me, stroked me, relaxed me, aroused me, teased me. He moved my body, spreading my knees and raising my arms over my head, opening my body in all the ways a woman is supposed to keep private. Only when I am panting. More

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