I would have my wife give a show thatthis young man would never forget, nor would I. I turned my attention back to my wife's performance -- the internaldebate, if you can call such a one-sided argument a debate, had lasted onlya second. She had bent forward to give me a fairly complete view of herbreasts hanging down below her neckline. She was also unknowingly givingthe stranger a good view of her rear end; probably even a tantalizingglimpse of slick pink flesh between fringes of red hair. I stood up and gently spun her around so that the front of her body nowfaced away from me -- toward the unseen eyes I knew were drinking in thesight of her. She turned her head to look at me over her shoulder, herexpression playful. My hands moved over her body toward her breasts. Hernaked throat was a long, pale curve as she tilted her head back to receivea kiss. I massaged her breasts under her dress, pushing them into swellsof lightly-freckled flesh above the low-cut collar. Nipples. The whole damn thing.Pigtails, ribbons, freckles, dress, and boots.The only difference from the night before was that she didn’t have her shepherd’s crook with her. I guess it would have been too hard to carry it to school drop-off without everyone seeing it and wondering what was going on.I stood at the bottom of the stairs, unable to move. She came down to the bottom step, then leaned over to me and whispered, “You said I deserved a treat for finding my sheep. So can I have my treat now?”And then she kissed me. God. She could kiss. Just when I thought I might actually pass out, she slipped her tongue gently into my mouth. I’ve been kissed before, lots of times. And I thought they were pretty good kisses, too, some of them. But none of them had been like that. Her arms were around my back, and my arms were around her, and slowly, seemingly of their own accord, my hands began to roam lower and lower, over that blue and white dress, down to that tiny skirt.And just as my hand began to.
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