Sometimes these were fairy tales, or morality plays, but sometimes actualhistory was shared by one person telling another, passing the story downthrou...h time until some bright person finally writes it down. Many of thosestories have sadly been lost, so it's not impossible something like thetale I'm about to share really happened.You young ones want to hear about Annia do you?I'll tell you but you have to promise to pass it on.Promise?All right then. This is the story my mother told me, and when. "oh, hey wasn't expecting you so early? How are you? Come in!" , and he smiled and said, "I'm good, heard you girls had a good holiday?", and walked into the house. He looked at me from top to bottom, I was in a bathrobe thigh length and wet hair. "just had a shower!" and he just smiled and said, "you left that in Seema's bag", and handed over a bag to me. "oh thanks, so what were you Gus upto?" I asked him, "naah, nothing great, just work, what did you guys do?", he couldn't. Annie held his ears, thrusting his face into my cunt - rubbing his tongue all the way down to my butt, then up through my folds to circle my clit and then deep inside to lick around my just-teenage piss hole. I loved it - my juices running down his chin - he clearly hated it, but Annie hit him whenever he stopped. Amber was bouncing her cute butt up and down, rubbing her own clitty, demanding: “me next, it’s my turn now, you have to do me too”.Chloe seemed to notice her baby sister’s tits for. On that firm round butt of hers that she would love to flaunt at me when we were in the house. She knew that that was one of the many… potent stimuli… to me, paired with the moan… that was it. I was greeted by the smell of hot chocolate that simmered away in a saucepan, its coco essence thick and rich in the air. As I entered the kitchen, the sight of a petite girl, her long black hair in a ponytail, welcomed me. Tantalizing my senses was a pair of red underwear and a green tank top. “You’re.