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I'd thought it was tan, but I was wrong. The fabric was white, and so sheer it verged on transparent. I could just make out the outline of her slit, but the small patch of hair that had grown above it was gone. It made her look so... available. I practically creamed myself as I looked up and caught her knowing expression."I didn't want you swallowing any hairs," Jenny quipped, moving closer to me. It was a very private inside joke, but nobody else could hear it anyway because the crowd was sensing another kiss and noisily encouraging some lesbian action. We kissed hungrily, and I didn't resist when she pulled my head down between her breasts.The place went wild, although the crowd noise was muted out by the roaring in my ears. I caught a glimpse of nipples looking fit to tear through the filmy fabric covering them and felt Jenny's heart racing beneath her skin, and then I was licking my way lower. The goop tasted like warm vanilla pudding that hadn't set, but it could have been. We planned to sit on a secluded bench in a quiet park on a beautiful September day but the air is cooler and windier than we expected and so Karen and I realize we can’t keep sitting out on this bench as we’re exposing ourselves slyly. We text you to update you we’ll be at the library nearby. Karen and I laugh and plot, thinking how we’ll do it and where. We know there are some private study rooms so that will be perfect. As we climb the long stone stairs entering this cold austere building and nod at the prudish librarian, we giggle as we think about the exciting adventure we’re about to have. We find a nice quiet area on the third floor and enter a room that fits three people well and close the door, our hearts beating quickly. We begin to kiss, so excited that we’re actually acting out this fantasy. Our hands roam over our hair and arms and backs. We make sure to keep our shirts on but take off our panties. We sit down at the table in chairs facing the door. She texts you. Then we.
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Just think about that, Katie. Over two hundred men there and my old man sitting by himself. But, when he left, they all shook his hand. Even his boss said they’d miss him.“His next battle was when he met my mum. Obviously, you can see I’m mixed race. My granddad threatened him, tried to bribe him, had him beaten, but he wouldn’t give her up. All that ended in nineteen-sixty-three when my mum showed dad a letter that was addressed to Mr. M. Goodson, VC. It was his annual pension letter.“My grandfather knew what those initials stood for. My dad had won the Victoria Cross in the second world war. Believe me, baby, that medal is the hardest one to win. Even to be considered for it, you’d had a ninety percent chance of being killed. Ninety percent! Even then you might not get it.“Anyway, my granddad realised that there might just be something special about my dad. He was right, there was. The day he died, us kids just cried and cried with mum. Even now, all these years later, we still.

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