He pushes her jeans down over her hips, leaving the chaps intact on her thighs, and the air-conditioned air brushing over her bald pussy lips raises c...ill bumps. Bend over, he commands. Spread your ass cheeks for me. Without even really knowing why, she obeys him and opens her most private of parts to his examination. He bends down, and she feels his breath against her ass. His tongue runs along her cheeks, and she moans with the feeling that clutches at her. And when his tongue darts out to. She and Woody were platonic friends, genuinely. She had no more interest in him sexually than she had in Mr Pierce (who was now moving slowly through the crowds towards them – he was like a bulldozer, or perhaps an oil tanker; his great bulk causing a bow wave of teenagers on either side of his track), but she was somewhat affronted that Woody’s eyes were clearly distracted from looking at John T. Jones to focussing about a foot to 18 inches below Mandy’s face. He was ogling her tits, he was. More

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