"I pushed back from my laptop and stretched. "How's the report coming?" Steffi asked."Almost done. Maybe about another fifteen minutes or so after din...er." I rubbed my eyes. "I'm getting bleary." Steffi slipped a bookmark into her book. "What are you reading?" I asked. She showed me the book. "Balzac... Pére Goriot?" I took the book and flipped through it. "You're reading it in the original French?" Yes -- I prefer to read in the original language -- if it's one I know." How many languages do. I glanced up and realized I had been caught. I blushed, my face becoming a giant ripe tomato.“Do you like what you see?”“I’m sorry; you make it awfully hard to look at your face. I mean, you have a beautiful face but..”“It’s okay, remember our fantasies were matched. You must have said you like looking at breasts, I know I said I liked it when men, or women for that matter looked at my tits.So you needn’t be shy, I want you want. WE have been found to perfectly compatible by the most. Our sex life is undeniably adventurous. We’ve used just about every kind of sex toy ever invented, tried every position possible, have fucked publicly in dozens of different places, and explored plenty of our sexual fantasies and fetishes. All this was possible because we never had children. We lived our romantic and wild side to its fullest. The greatest thing of all was how he has always accepted me for who I am. He always emphasizes how special I am. I’m not talking about ?the way she makes. This was particularly so as he was fairly bright, getting good grades in all subjects and was quite amenable to helping his close friends with their homework. He had gone into puberty early and now at 14 his voice had broken, he was shaving his upper lip and had grown patches of light brown hair in all the right places on his body. From his early years of playing childhood games of “doctor” and the like he had discovered that he was somewhat larger in the crotch department than most of his.