When my hand went to my navel, I felt a wet rose, and Jaanu was moving it around it. It was cold, and I felt goose pimples.His rose travelled from my navel to my midriff; from there to my cleavage; from my cleavage to my neck. I giggled with the tickle. He dipped the rose again in water and came back to my neck. I felt ticklish and giggled again. I could feel his warm tongue sucking away the wet drops that were left on my neck. I caught hold of his neck. His lips came up on my cheek. I never knew, only later he told me what a kiss is like.Then he told me to kiss his neck, while he brought it near my lips. My kiss didn’t stop at one. The thing ‘kiss’ was magic. I felt a lot nice to ‘kiss’. He told me to stop, because I became uncontrollable. For a brief half minute, there was no movement. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I felt that he had removed his kurta and had become bare-chested.Again, he came close to me. He asked me to remove my petticoat, as the actual moment to attack. A little aftermidnight on warm, moon-lit summer nights, Chauncey took to walking up anddown his drive in his finery. At first he was extremely anxious and everyunusual night sound nearly led to panic with a hurried return to thehouse. But eventually over several days he accustomed himself to the nightand gradually calmed himself. He never felt completely safe andcomfortable in his costumes and always had some fear of detection from theroad. However, his rational mind assured him he had nothing to fear---Chauncey's estate was at the road's end and the road even during the day,not to mention at night, was never well-traveled by cars and even less soby pedestrians.Nevertheless, as we have indicated, the risk of detection, however remote,did provide our sissy's pathetic little nighttime soirees from the housewith a frisson that was immensely stimulating and erotic. He loved thenight heat that produced tiny beads of perspiration on his carefully madeup face, and the light night breeze.
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