I liked making myself look beautiful.I liked acting feminine and graceful. I loved wearing long sweepingdresses and really skimpy lingerie. I could ...ever consciously beanything else, it wasn't who I was. I tried to make myself fell betterby shaving my armpits and legs slowly and carefully. Then I washed myhair and took great care to condition it right and dry it properly too.Then I rubbed my favourite moisturiser into my skin, applied some nightcream to my face and picked out a sheer night. When the sun as setting and we had seen no one who resembled her step-father, I took her to a tavern and bought us some stew."Where do you sleep?" she asked as I lit a clay pipe.I smiled at her through the smoke, thinking of Faith and the little girls at their tavern. "Various places," I said."I've a bed at the store," she said. "Not very big, but if..." she hesitated and her eyes widened. "It's him," she whispered.I glanced where she was staring and saw a well-fed man in a buff coat and. Moria kissed him back, her tongue intertwining with his, her hands at his waist, working the pants slowly down, freeing his hard throbbing cock, brushing the tips of her fingers over it. “No,” he said softly, taking her hands in his, “this is for you.” He sat back on his heels and looked at the girl stretched out in front of him. Her body wasn’t perfect by magazine standards. She wasn’t bone thin. She had curves. Her breasts weren’t implant firm, but beautifully natural. Her stomach wasn’t as. Which it does, surprisingly quickly, having gotten both hands on her tits and started squeezing her nipples, as I perform my varying ministrations on her delectable pussy.Afterward, we share a long, sloppy, gentle tongue kiss. As I'm wiping our mixed juices off our faces with a tissue, I mention that I've enjoyed having this recent break in the monotony being stuck at home. I would not say our sex life had gotten stale by any means - we were both still enthusiastic in bed - but it was a.