I stepped forward and began to fondle her tits, then to tweak the exposed nipples. I deliberately hurt her and she winced but said nothing. "Tell me, ...other dear, what am I doing?" A long pause, during which I gripped her left tit hard and felt the extended nipple pushing against the palm of my hand. Then: "you're touching my breasts. You're hurting me."I smiled a little. "No, no, mother, I'm playing with your tits. Repeat after me: my son is playing with my naked titties." A slow breath, then:. Especially not...no. Oh god, no. She didn't."I DID! But let's go back to that clit, first. It *is* your clit, right?Let's not kid ourselves anymore. It was funny to keep calling it a cockall this time, but that's a dirty little lie for a good little girl likeyou to be spreading. Especially since...well...your balls...areofficially...y'know...FINITO."Robert pressed against the fat of his groin with one tiny hand andtweezed out his coc--his *clit* with two dainty fingers on the otherhand. She was. She wore a short skirt, a wheat-colored linen, that fell an inch or two above her knees and a dark green short-sleeved silk shirt. She held her hair back with two gold barettes and slid her feet into flat leather sandals. She lifted her small handbag (the same color leather as her shoes) and swung it over her shoulder in one fluid motion as she walked to the door. She shut the bedroom door silently, and peered into the bathroom mirror before heading out the door. Her hair was darker with water,. ‘Us?’ I asked. ‘Of course ‘us’,’ she answered, ‘Whose prick would I lick?’ She looked out the window and noticed her stop was next. ‘Come with me, I’ll show you a good time.’ The look in her eyes told me she was telling the truth, and I was tempted. After all, no one would know I was gone as long as I got back before my parents got home. The bus slowed to a stop and Lindsay stood up. She turned towards me and said, ‘Come on, let’s go!’ I grabbed her hand and raced off the bus after her. Before.