I always was a sucker for a challenge... ****She****The LOOK got him. He's coming over.The trick now is to brush him off, preferably with a hard-on.I ...ook elsewhere as he approaches. He doesn't speak, but stands so close that if I turn, I'll be staring at his zipper. I can smell him. Just a hint of cologne, or possibly soap, underlaid with a feral masculine scent. This is... unexpected.I feel my silky brown hair guided away from my face with a single finger. The game is well afoot now. He has. He spends all the other time with me. He has more than enough money, and we both know it. He doesn't look thirty seven (he looks younger), and I don't look seventeen (I look older). I have fantasized about him holding my hips, pounding into my tight young pussy with fury burning in his eyes. It's that thought I usually hold in my mind when I lay on my bed and finger myself. I love imagining it as him, although I know his fingers are longer, wider. Probably two of mine. Lately, I've been. She knew where she washeading all along. She led the way into what turned out to be a storethat catered to transsexuals and transvestites. The owner came up to herand greeted her, "Hello Mary, glad you came back to see us. Is this thenew lady?" Mary answered him, "Yes, this is Carla, see what you can doto make her more like a lady." He looked at me and told Mary,"Certainly, that's our specialty, follow me." He led us to the clothesracks where they had me try on many outfits. The first. " she said, helping herself to another mound of pasta. Lauren smiled, never having really cooked for so many others before.After their meal they washed up by the light from both lanterns and then disappeared to change. Lauren took out her father's long cotton shirt and buttoned it up, smiling at his size and the extra room inside. She sat on the sofa in the lounge, legs curled up. Emma had dressed similarly in a cool cotton shirt that Lauren hadn't seen before, squatting on the floor in front.