Maybe it was easier to see when two women were compared. I don't know, but it was obvious that they had come to look more alike over the years.I alrea...y had down how they met, and we went into more detail about what they liked about each other, and the interests they shared. One of the things that was fascinating was that each had some of the stereotypical attributes of a male.Micky, for instance, had taught herself how to do simple plumbing and electrical work, and to do most home repairs.. . Rolling over from her knees, onto that lovely arse, lets her legs spread, showing off that neatly trimmed pussy, “I could go on my back ... Do it missionary style...” She pauses with her knees up in the air, fake pumping her pelvis under her imaginary dog ... The look of her face indicating that she’s going through the whole thing in her mind.“Missionary, I think...” She confirms after a little thought. “I want to see this scary, hairy bastard’s face as he pumps me full of spunk...” She. . Time seemed to stand still for Sharon Court, and it was as if she began drifting on a soft fleecy cloud of torpor. Yes, and it was as if hands, so soft and gentle, were beginning to caress her flesh slowly, tantalizingly, expertly moving over her breasts and her belly and her warmly flowering cunt, exciting her, soothing her, such nice, nice feelings... If the young wife had known that her dreamy thoughts were more than merely mental -- that soft, gentle hands were indeed moving slowly. One afternoon, about two or three weeks into summer, we were back at the swing in the woods. Jimmy was going up the hill for yet another ride. We were sitting or lying on the ground, talking about our favorite subject, the mysterious Cartwheel and his magical Makeout Machine. I remember looking up the hill at Jimmy. It seemed that he was a lot higher than usual. It looked like he was standing on his toes, trying to get a little more height on his swing. I laughed. I had turned back to the rest.