Her hands explore her own body caressing her breasts, down her stomach and gently over her sore ass. She removes the shower head from its stand, it's...time for some fun. She sits at the base of her shower and gently parts her legs as she changes the setting to massage. Pointing the jet of water at her sensitive clit she begins to moan and let pleasure take over her. The jet of water provides the perfect amount of pressure to provide just the right amount of pleasure to her desperate clit. Her. Yes. Yes!I smirked. “Virginia, old girl, I have an idea.”I stepped into the offices at 44 Polton Cross with my comrades following in kind. The interior of the room was loud with whirring machines, shouting men, and thick with the smell of ink. IN the center of the room was a terrifying monster of a machine – nearly ten yards tall, with rickety wood and metal ladders leading up to the sides, where conveyor belts fed in thick reams of paper, which were sliced and stamped with a furious din. Men –. .. Look up!”Julie looked up and gasped.“Great Shades of Elvis!” she breathed.Several of the neighbors were also seeing the treehouse for the first time. There was a general sort of appreciative noise.“It’s beautiful,” Julie said. “And it’s all mine?”“All yours,” Pete assured her. “But I hope you let your parents in from time to time.”“Yeah, sure,” Julie agreed, grinning. “I mean, if they can do this for me, I can sure let them in from time to time. And Gramps and Grandmamma and Uncle ... Can we. She saw little of Uncle George over the next couple of years. He was 'down under' once or twice on business, but she was busy with her studies and social life, so she neglected writing him. There was otherwise a lot to tell. Her studies were going very well. She had also - finally - found a serious boyfriend, entered the world of womanhood at the unusually high age of nearly 21 and gone on to share a small apartment with him. The fact is this would have pleased Uncle George to know, but somehow.