She would always read me stories and as I got older, eight, nine, ten, even eleven, she would invite me into her bed, especially if there was a storm ...r if we had watched a scary movie or were reading a scary book.We always had lots of fun, I got lots of hugs and snuggles, she often mussed my hair, whispered nonsensical things in my ear, tickled me until I cried for her to stop. Of course, as I became twelve, then, entered my teens, my overnight stays became less frequent.Then, at my fifteenth. I've never been one for pyjamas, or even shorts and a t-shirt, and I've told him this several times, but he didn't mind. So here I am, in his extraordinarily comfy bed, with nothing but my well-toned body and a pair of tight boxers on. My eyes open as I feel a warm presence against my back. But it ventures around my body as his hands stroke my abs, my legs, my ass. His hands have touched pretty much my whole body, before he decides enough is enough and puts his hand down my boxers, and starts. More

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