At the foot of the bed where she had dropped her uniform.“Wait,” I said,“Have you ever had a patron touch you?” I asked as I stepped closer to...her.She turned back to me. “No, never. sir”“May I touch you?” Stepping even closer to her.“Yes, sir.”I placed my hand gently on her face, then moved to her neck. I brought my other hand up and place both her shoulders, slowly moved down her arms. The contrast of my rough fingers on her light skin was striking. My hands moved inward to her breasts, my. I had to go by her place before and after school and stopped by often on the way home to eat a slab of pie, help her with homework, or ride one of their horses with her. Neither of us had siblings, so we gravitated to being best friends. She was mature for her age, and I was just as immature for mine, so it worked out.Her folks had about forty acres of orchard, mostly prunes and peaches, with enough apple trees to provide an inexhaustible supply of fruit for pies. I was amazed at the number of. More

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