I was motionless. He was licking my lips, and I was feeling my pussy wet and some liquid was dripping from there.Now this condition was unbearable for...me, so pushed him back and returned to hall of the shop after keeping my cloths in usual position. I hide that box and took the Tiffin from father and returned back to my home. Mother opened the gate and informed me that she was going to sleep so don't disturb her. It was summer afternoon so I was decided to take shower. I took that dick box with. She said “spit in it” and then held her hand out. I did as she asked and she then used her left hand to stroke my dick. She looked out the window as she jerked me off exactly how I’d been doing it to myself, her right hand gripping the door handle. She was doing an amazing job. As her hand dries up, she stopped lifted it up just below my chin and said nothing, still looking out the window. I spat in her hand again and she kept going... it was a delicious hand job from this young girl. She was. He felt her from her ass to her clit. Back and forth he stroked her. He then felt her get wet. He turned her over to her back which made the top fall off. She had nice huge tits and he took his hands and fondled them and then took the nipples between two fingers. As he played with the tits, he started to kiss her. When he pushed his tongue in her mouth she immediately sucked it. He kissed her long and hard for several minutes till his cock was getting hard. He leaned over and sucked her plump. "It had never occurred to me that the young man I had been exchanging glances with all night wasn't even of age to drink. I don't know what had gotten into me but by this point I was already intrigued, and his age wasn't doing much to change that. All night I felt his eyes on me. I could tell that he was mesmerized by my soft curves and small waist. It was barely midnight and my panties were soaked and all I wanted to do was take off all of my clothes. I had to do something about this tension..
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Not my usual problem. Part of me was standing back and admiring my unprecedented chutzpah. I gave him his lemonade. ‘Can I see your fiddle?’ he as
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