As she touched up her lipstick and makeup in the mirror she pondered the decisions that had led her to the present predicament. Steven had been her el...est daughter's boyfriend in high school and he lived four blocks from their home. Emily had broken up with him after high school and was now dating some guy with long hair, tattoos, and bad breath. Elizabeth had decided that she would never really understand her own daughter. Steven was very good-looking and well built for a young man. Steven did. So far, he had remained silent, as she had ordered in her letter to the company. While she couldn’t wait to hear his voice of desire; she wanted to wait until it was her name falling from his lips.Keeping herself pressed into him, she marveled as his muscles flexed and shifted beneath his smooth, dark skin. Pealing herself from his heat, she let her lips fall open. Her husky, passion-filled voice whispered her command: “Take Me!”Needing no other command, she found his lips against hers. His. Both sisters’ pubic hair was carefully trimmed in the shape of a butterfly, and both were color coordinated. They were still staring at each other. Green reached down and ran her fingers lightly along her slit. Blue traced a slow circle around her clit. Both of their fingers came away sticky, trailing strands of fluid. They lay back on the two tables and spread their legs. Both guys knelt and went to work with their tongues. The sisters reacted differently. Blue seized the cushion beneath her. This method requires an awful lot of faith and hope. Not something you really want to bet your life, or skin on!The second method was what we called the Sunday driver, or ‘que-tip’ method: You’ve all watched a little old lady in a great big car drive, right? We called them ‘que-tips’ because usually all you could see from behind them was their cloud of white hair, which made it look as if a giant que-tip was driving the land barge. Anyway, they would slowly work their way through traffic, on.