Her milky white thighs spread before me and her pink honeypot lay before me. She was massaging her breasts as I reached out with both hands and lightl... brushed her flesh, slowly traced lines on her inner thighs in long and winding paths toward the valley where they met. There was the land of milk and honey and when my hands arrived, I gently rubbed her lips and massaged her slowly, feeling her clit steadily swell. Leaning closer to her sex, the smell was sweet and heady. I knew that my breath. “I think you were dreaming ... about me. Bobby, I could feel your dream.”“Feel it?”“I felt your hand on my side. Do you remember dreaming?”“I have lots of dreams,” he said.“Do you remember any about me?” I asked.There was too much silence between the time I finished asking the question and his reply of, “No.”I knew he was lying. But ... I also knew how difficult it would be for a boy - he was suddenly a boy again - to admit to a woman that he had dreams about her - erotic dreams, based on how. More

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