The gentleman looked a bit older than his wife, and i would soon find out, was impotent.We have a back porch that people occasionally sit on and shoot...the breeze. One day, my indian neighbors wife decided to chat with me for a bit. She told me her nickname was fifi at work because people here could not pronounce her name properly and she kind of like it, so Fifi it was. They were here a good 6 weeks tho before we finally had a decent conversation longer than 2 minutes. She came out the porch. They are even kind of proud of them.I love it when a young lady about twelve or thirteen starts to get that thinner waist, growing toward that hourglass figure that men love to admire.I really love it when a young woman about fourteen or fifteen starts thinking about sex and loosing her virginity. I absolutely love to de-flower virgins, to be the very first man to invade their inner most depths. This is a man that they will never ever forget as long as they shall live. Men will come and go. No chance of a backstabbing this way.The man who stood at the centre of the room just flashed an amused smile at me, probably having gauged some of my thoughts. Judging by the confidence he displayed and the fact that most occupants were now looking at him after the brief gawking in my direction, I presumed that he was the host of this evening.A girl entered the room shortly afterwards, prompting the host to close the door and bolting it shut. Making his way over to the centre of the room, he. His eyes pause briefly at the hollow of my throat, his lips part slightly. I close my eyes and pray for strength. His gaze moves down to my breasts. He smiles a little. My breasts are rather full and the tight buttoned blouse accentuates this. That’s why I like to wear it. He continues with his visual caress moving on to my waist, small, and my hips, rounder, pausing at the open edge of my skirt, my legs and boot top. I hear him inhale and I feel the desire to spin, so he can adjust his gaze to.