My first instinct was to grab my clothes and hide somewhere. I fought down that thought and continued to kneel facing the front door. Now I was really...nervous. Kneeling there I heard the car pull up and the engine stop. Several doors slammed shut so I knew more than one person was behind me. Sure enough, I could see in the window glass as three young black men walked up to the porch. I continued to stare at the front door, not knowing who they were or if this was even part of the weekend. It did. I started by slipping on a pair of jeans that were far more constrictive to my legs and hips than anything I'd ever worn. Then I grabbed a tank top and slid it on, straightening out creases formed at the breasts. I felt a chill coming down my new cleavage ? I was too exposed. So I grabbed a light long-sleeve top, one of those softball shirts. I went for a bit of a tomboy look, not by accident.I looked at myself in the mirror. The sight was far too surreal to behold, being looked. "Much easier than number one," Herm said. "Ask Shirley." Wouldn't asking her a question like that suggest a greater interest in her past life than I probably ought to be showing?" Absolutely!" Betsy said. I had been directing my question to Herm, but all he did, after Betsy had answered me, was to shake his head in agreement.We explored further, on the Internet, looking for a place to purchase "Girls on Fire" online, but found no distributor who was selling it. We couldn't find either of the. I did it again, slowly this time, and you groaned. I nipped at your throat. “I want you slowly.” Your large hands grabbed my hips and squeezed gently, holding me still. “Don’t move! I’m so hard for you baby, but I want to take it slow this time.” Your hands pulled me up and down on your cock, slowly and deeply, over and over. My nipples rubbed against your hard chest and only aroused me even more. I squirmed, rocked my hips, but you stopped and slapped my ass. “I said don’t move!” I cried out,.