We have been a polyamourous group of seven since nineteen-seventy-eight.“Friday evening Kristin made a big pot of Fra Diavolo Mullusco, Devil Monk M...scles. Gulf clams stewed in white wine with fennel, shallots and crushed red pepper. We sat outside on a big wooden deck overlooking Galveston Bay. We ate bowls of those delicious clams and we drank a couple of bottles of Barbera, an Italian style wine from the Rio Grande Valley.“We sat together on Adirondacks in the dark moonlit night looking at. I know what you’re thinking. All those horny girls together. All those hot, sexy minxes soaping up our bodies, as the hot water sprays over our boobs. Do we touch each other? Do we help each other by rubbing the soap into our sweaty little bum cracks. What do you think? There’s nothing better than the touch of another girl’s hands your body, squeezing a foaming sponge all down your front. Maybe we do. Maybe our hands stray where they shouldn’t sometimes. We’ve had to put up with all your grunts. In response I rubbed her bare arm and squeezed herfingers. Our caresses, though relatively innocent at this point, felt veryvery sensual. Mom kept just slightly moving her hips against my cock fromtime to time. "Would it help if I let you feel my breasts?" Mom asked, and she startedunbuttoning the top of her nightdress. "Wow! It sure would, Mom!" I exclaimed. I gingerly thrust my hand insidethe open top of the nightie and for the first time since infancy touchedmy Mom's tits. They were big and. Since you got so much joy out of what you did to those poor innocents, I thought I'd let you be on the receiving end."There was a small brightness now, a small nightlight over in the corner. A nightlight? He could move his head now. He was in a bedroom, on a bed. There was a doll next to him. Looking around, he could see a dollhouse and a toy box. He could almost make out the shapes of Sesame Street characters on posters on the wall. A girl's dress hung on a hanger on the door of what he.