My eyes fly open, but she is smiling warmly, amused by the mistake and my reaction, her right eyebrow raised in a question. We need say nothing for m... to know. My fingertips skip that button, and the next, resting on the third.Oma nods approvingly.One by one, I button Oma’s dress, my dress, pulling it up a little to reach the last two. I gather the cotton together with the cloth belt, buckling it into its delicate silver.“How tight, Oma?”She stands, crossing the short space to me atop her. He wanted me in a sexual way! Suddenly,my poor head exploded with the idea! I had, of course, seen a few Playboymagazines, and even a Hustler that a friend had taken from his father'sstash. I vividly remembered my favorite picture. There was a young womanon her knees, wearing a sheer white negligee with her hard nipples almostpoking through the material, long white gloves, with two naked men on eitherside. She had one man's cock in her satin gloved hand, and the other aboutto slide into. More

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