There was a pleading tone to the cries, a calling out for comfort again, as if she were in terrible need.Perhaps that was why Christine didn't fight h...rder. Perhaps that was why her lips began compressing gently, as if she were kissing the red wound that was causing little Robin such agony.Only now the wound was a gash, silky and slippery and hot, like no other wound she'd kissed before. Yet, the agony was just as intense, somehow, the comfort still needed.And, of course, there was a sense in. We lived out of the wagons through the spring and summer while Sawyer built the house, the nightly touches becoming more than touching. Often times Sawyer would have Billy sleep in the other wagon alone then would come to our wagon to lay with us girls. Since the nights were warm now, he would insist we only sleep in a nightgown with nothing underneath. He always started with Mary, kissing and touching, then come to me to finish. One night he did something new. He laid down between Mary's legs. I was wearing her pantyhose and also a pair of her lustrous, shiny panties, I was humping her satin pillow as I sniffed the crotch of a pair of her knickers that I had taken from the washing basket.I had developed a penchant for women’s legs clad in nylon as I entered adolescence and as I was not really the rugged outdoor type, I spent most of time at home. Even as I turned eighteen and became an adult I lived at home, dad was always away overseas and mom was devoted to work leaving me the. I had some laundry to get a move on first though, so I spent some time gathering it up and trucking it downstairs into the laundry room. I began sorting through clothes and filling the washing machine. About halfway through the sorting process, I felt warmth from behind as arms wrapped around my body and “Hey, you” was whispered into my ear. I could feel his hot breath on my neck and as his hands ran down my toned sides and under my shirt onto my waist, my heart picked up pace and I felt my.