Granddad looks more or less the same. He is Caucasian, has many wrinkles and a sun-tanned body that only years of farm work can produce. He constantly...has the same stern expression that shows experience, understanding, and produces a calculating glare. Gran has a sympathetic look to her. She has an inviting manner and has what I would call a look of stage presence. Both have white hair, hers in curls and his straight but slightly balding. The strange thing is their looks contradict their. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and although I didn’t see her dress, I saw that part of it was a light magenta color down to her ankles. We arrived at the dance, which was being held in a fancy private school, and when I opened the door for Kerry, my jaw dropped. She had a strapless, backless magenta silk dress that clung to her athletic body perfectly as her shiny red hair dangled down her back. I tried to be cool as possible as all of her friends came up and commented on each other’s dresses. She was not kindly disposed to men because of her husband’s treatment of her. She intended to take her revenge on men with me as their representative. At first she treated me kindly. As part of her costume, she in common with many ladies at court, wore a dainty apron trimmed with lace. Her apron had a small pocket sewn below the waistband. I travelled in that pocket which was deep enough to contain me up to my neck. When she was moving she would tighten the ribbon at the pocket’s mouth so that. But she was already hot and keen to be screwed. His hands wandered to her boobs, stroking them hurriedly, urgently as the tension built up in his body. Her hand slipped down his body and into his pants, playing with his encased tool. His shirt flew roughly over his head and onto the table. He struggled to drop his shorts and release his stiffening bar. When it was free she stroked feather like along its shaft from the base to the knob, running a finger lightly through the groove to set his.