My name was, is, George Stanton, the younger of two male children born to Albert and Dorothy Stanton of Yorkshire county. With a tousle of light, almo...t white, blonde hair and a lean masculine face, I was a standout next to my elder brother with his dark ruddy complexion and almost Romanesque honker. Mother and Father were both instructors at the local school, teaching us that through knowledge one will be better able to understand and control the world around him. Both Arthur and I excelled in. "That wasn't hard, was it?" "Yes it was," I laughed at the double entendr?. "Did you like the taste?" "It really didn't have much taste," I confessed. "That's because there wasn't enough of it. Don't worry. There's a lotmore where that came from. Kiss it for me," she said as she bent it downto within an inch of my painted lips. I automatically pursed my lips andkissed the velvety smooth head. She moved it away and said, "Look. Nowyou've gotten lipstick on it. You're going to have to lick it. What made her think she was my mistress? Who was she calling a little doggy? Maybe I should have put a stop to her little game there and then. She had had her fun and now it was time for me to call a halt to it. But so far she had commanded the show with an authority that came so naturally to her that I now found myself on all fours between her spread legs with my nose just inches from her purple satin gusset. Another twinge of embarrassment washed over me at how gullible and easily lead I had. We stepped into the garage, and I noticed the door had come off the track on one side. "Can you fix it?", she asked. I told her I thought I could get it open, but it might take more time to repair later. I got a stepladder, pry bar, and screwdriver off the workbench, and asked her to hold them while I climbed up to get a better look. We chatted as I figured out how to rerail the rollers, and as I looked down at her, I could see down her blouse at the balck nylon bra she was wearing. I fought.