I hated sports, I loathed my boyish clothes. I hated the pubescentchanges that had started in my body. I wanted to shave my legs, not myface. I wanted...my voice to stay at its soft falsetto, not to deepen intoa manly baritone. I wanted smooth, graceful curves, not the hard,chiseled features of a man. I wanted to grow breasts, not muscles.At an age where most guys couldn't take their eyes off girls, I couldn'ttake my eyes off of them for another reason. Envy. Not lust, envy. Ienvied their skirts,. .. I slide my body up her trembling legs, gently start licking and kissing up her thigh, until I reach that hot pussy. I start twirling my tongue around her clit, while teasing her pussy hole with my fingers, knowing how much she is wanting me to go deeper into her, and teasing her really turns me on. I start to lose control, and a little pee trickles out, feeling the warmth almost drives me into a explosive orgasm. I pause a second, and gaze around the room. Desperately trying to regain. Mother’s pussy was a gift from God. Her sexy bright pink labia, spread out in delicate layers like rose petals. Her “flower”. Her large clitoris peeking out from under its pink foreskin hood, begging for a tongue lashing. The glistening strawberry blonde pubic hairs, so thin and soft to my nose. And, last but not least, her sparkling vaginal fluids, so mouth-watering, pooling at the entrance of her maternal pussy. Oh, how I wanted to taste and swallow them!I lovingly tossed my mother, my. Nothing out of the ordinary in how we interacted until she started or I began to notice her hot friends coming over to swim in our in ground pool. At the beginning I simply would peak through the curtains of the master bedroom, looking down at those young, gorgeous bodies barely covered with fabric as well as glistening in the sunlight; which seemed to highlight all the right places. It did not take long before my hormones took over and I began to have very hot masturbatory fantasies. At.