My nose would brush the gusset of your knickers as it moistens with your excitement. I'd run my tongue delicately from your button, slide it inside as...you squirm, then run it up to your pereneum and gently tease your tense arsehole. I'd stand behind you and grasp your slender waist firmly with both hands, briefly fondle your sweet cupcakes over your blouse, nibble the nape of your neck. I'd hitch my fingers into the waistband of your knickers and pull them down your long trembling legs. Then,. He wasn’t brave enough to make a move on his own mother, and he wasn’t sure it was something she’d want anyway. She was upset about Dad’s infidelity, a woman on the rebound, and he had no right to use that for his own pleasure. He laughed at himself. No, his mother was far too conservative to entertain fantasies of i****t the way her only son did. Even d***k as she was, that was too unbelievable. And yet there she was leaning against the doorframe making eyes at him, smiling as if she could. He really is very special."That was when the dam burst. She clung to Helen as the tears of emotional release poured. Helen held her stroking her back but saying nothing. She was thrilled for both of them, especially Hal, but Diana's fertility and the de Laix legacy were on her mind. Diana gave her no time to worry.She pulled herself together and disengaged. "Thank you, Helen, for being such a comfort but I suspect you're a bit worried about whether I can give Hal a son." She told Helen the full. The whole dress fit like a glove. It wasn't "tight" in the sense that it had horizontal stretch marks. It fit with no wrinkles and accented every curve she had. As long as they sat in a low-lit intimate corner away from traffic, they would be O.K. She put on a dark, long sleeved sweater so the dress would be less revealing.Jenny got into "Burt," her 1970 Volkswagen beetle. She drove to the garment district to meet him at "Gabriella's. It was a small intimate restaurant they had been to once.