Something new. Her body quivered as his hands gingerly slipped upwards, taking her breasts under them. Something pressed against her, hard as stone, throbbing and alive. She could smell him. His musk was sweet and masculine. Having him hold her was nothing at all like when her husband did. Then there was only warmth and love and devotion. Here was something new entirely. A feeling that coursed through her from the tips of her nipples to the nub of flesh between her legs, like a longing. What…what am I feeling? She asked dazedly, straining to keep her thoughts in order. “It is called lust, my lovely.” He spoke aloud, and as he did his breath fell hotly on her ear and she shook once more. His large hands squeezed at her breasts and he rolled his thick thumbs around her dark areolas. She leaned backwards and rested her head against his chest. With one hand he reached outward towards the nearest fruit, whilst the other began to slide back down her body, over her stomach, down between. And like the characters in that story, we have made it to the point of laughing about this fuss…mostly. So you know I love my sewing machine. And I will never forget the year that my older daughter brought her little brother over for Christmas. I do not want to sound ungrateful for those or any other wonderful presents, but this is the story of my BEST Christmas present ever. So what was it, you ask? I was six years old and as little girls do I had my first real crush. You know the kind…not on Donny Osmond or Michael Jackson, but on a real live boy this time. There was this guy at church. He was eighteen or nineteen. Being a good Southern boy, he even had two names…Lee Earl. The amazing thing was how sweet he was to the gap toothed little kid. I remember that summer my mother had put my hair up in curlers for the first time. It was horrible: these tight curls all over my head that no matter how much you brushed them would do nothing. But nothing did me except walk up to his house and.
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