He assumed I was interested in sports, in being a fireman or doctor when I grew up, and in playing with other boys. When he found out I wanted to be a... artist or a cinematographer or a war correspondent, he was taken aback. His idea of art was limited to portraits of the saints. And war correspondents had an incredibly short life expectancy, Ernie Pyle being a case in point.One morning at breakfast as I ate my oatmeal, he sat at the other side of our tiny kitchen table, reading a newspaper. "Don't you dare touch my panties and bras, you fifi," shesaid, storming off.He also soon found that he could not get a date. There was mostly, "I'mdoing my hair that night." One girl declined his offer, saying she couldnot compete with his growing celebrity. "But it was just a picture in theneighbourhood newsletter of me handing the daycare centre a small chequefor $200 for their Valentine's Day party," he honestly counteredhopelessly. The worst was the time another young lass told him,. ..fuck me Joe....", she softly whispered. My tongue flicked in and out of her orifice, while my hands moved to her anus and began to do the same work she so graciously did on me. I loved everything about her pussy...the way it smelled, the way it tasted, the way it felt in my mouth. I loved it all and I loved this girl.I slowly worked both my tongue in her vagina and my fingers in her ass, listening to her pants and heavy breathing as I continued my pleasuring. She moved her hips in rhythm to. Once inside, you set the luggage down winks and tell me we are all alone.Before I can reply you pull me close, and kiss me deep and hard, as your hand caress my back. I return the kiss parting my lips as our tongue does the dance of lovers. Staying that way for what feels like an eternity.You are still holding me, smiling like the cat that just ate the canary.”Well Amanda, what do you want to do, lie down, freshen up, or eat something?”“How’s about you take me on a tour of your lovely house,.