The hands start moving slowly. No gtip just gentle strokes around your bottom to your inner thighs and back. Back and forth, back and forth. ‘Don’... be scared. Just relax’. You hear muffled by the blankness that the relaxing massage left in your absolutely eased mind. One kiss on your inner thigh before you stiffen for just a moment as his tongue, even warmer than his hands, makes gentle contact with the tingly spot between your legs. His tongue draws firm cirles around your clitoris. Always the. Crummy old pool tables, sometimes a band, a 1 star dive, anyway when we went there she would wear a really tiny denim shirt and ether a short t-shirt or a tube top,We would play pool, an excuse for her to bend over and show her beautiful ass, I always made sure to lose so I could sit back and watch the flirting and come-ons by the guys, sometimes I'd walk out to the pier to give her time with her suitors without me staring, if she met a guy she liked she knew anything was ok by me, it was all. It wasn't something she would wear going out, but it was only cousins around so im sure she didnt care.I didn't think much of it at the time, but then the same sort of thing happened again not too long after.We were at a restaurant celebrating our aunts 54'th birthday. We took up a whole section of the restaraunt because we have many family members. I was sitting at Sarah's table. I took one glance at her, and saw her sexy outfit..which consisted of jeans and a loose top. The jeans fit her. Locked together like this, his searing heat and throbbing pulse transferred to her like the merciless beatings of a percussionist, his felt-covered timpani mallet beating the stretched, taught skin of the drum, sending shock waves reverberating unhindered through her body. They traveled through her womanhood, involuntarily clenching her already-tight abs, and played her rib cage like a xylophone before gripping her thundering heart, which bludgeoned her in glorious synchronicity with his.