She had me panting and in her spell. “I could come over there, and kneel between your open legs. Get comfortable between your strong legs. And cro...ch down, to pick up your big . . . cock. In my soft, hands. Wrap my little hand around your shaft . . . “I instinctively reached down to touch myself. I was getting quite worked up. But she sang three rising notes of admonishment, “Ah! Ah! Ah! No hands, Andy. At least, not yet. I’m sucking you, remember? We don’t want your hands to get in. It had been a gift from my mother, who brought it from her honeymoon in Italy after she married my step dad George. It was a combination of an address book, diary and a notebook, the size of a big paperback and just as thick, and if I was to use it as a chronicle of my young life, I could have probably squeezed in a few years, because as a teenager I had allowed myself very little fun and didn’t date at all. The cover of the book was a mixture of soft pastels, peach and pink running into. More

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