I rapped softly on her door, the one with the Liz Faire poster hanging demurely. Nothing stirred inside. I peeked in the door to see Tammy angelic in ...he posture of sleep. My heart was in my throat with love. How sweet, and innocent, and beautiful she was. Her tawny curls spread around her head like a golden halo, and lips, slightly parted in sleep began to cause me losing the battle against my raging lusts. I began having picture in my head of ripping the quilt off of Tammy, tearing her. The thing I’ve been thinking about all day. The thing we’ve talked about on the phone. I feel my breath getting shallow as he puts his hand on my face, leaning toward me. I feel it. I feel his lips touching mine so little that it may not look like a kiss at all, but I feel his bottom lip follow the path of mine. He’s trying to make me work for it. He’s trying to make me crave it. He’s biting, tasting, nibbling on my lips. This is it right here. The time when whispers are allowed. The cliché. Suddenly her breathing became quicker and I felt hershudder. She yelled out as she orgasmed in my face. Ididn’t lick her any more, but stayed gazing at herpussy, her wonderful old pussy, the sight of which gaveme so much pleasure.‘On the floor!’ she ordered.As she rolled off the bed and got up, I went to layface up on the floor. Hands on hips, she towered overme, directly above my face, her dress hitch slightly. Ilooked up at her exposed pussy under her dress. ‘This is a. It wasn't hard, despite what people thought, to make a perfect piecrust. Plenty of shortening, don't work it too much, those were theusual rules of thumb. But the real trick was not to expect it to beperfect. You had to accept that some patching, pruning, and stretchingwere going to be necessary. Cutting away the extra dough from along thetop with a sharp paring knife, Marcia set about doing just that. Itwould all bake into what looked like a flawless whole, heal itself inthe oven as it baked..