This wasn’t the Chrissy I remembered. The Chrissy I remembered was a young girl that loved to come visit me and play with my two cats. Sometimes she...would stop just outside the front garden on her little bicycle and watch the kittens. Yes, it was that long ago.This was a different Chrissy. She was about 175 and it looked like her long blonde hair came down half of that. She was wearing a thin summer dress that reached just above her knees. From there all the way down to her toes she was. As I tried to twist my hand free, I'm sure you started to grip your thighs together, and the more I wriggled the harder you squeezed. Your eyes were closed and your lips were slightly apart as you started to make little gasps in your breath. Far from trying to pull my hand out, I was massaging my fingers into your dripping pussy through the material. You were forcing yourself harder into the seat and I could just get my middle finger into your pussy opening by pushing the material into the. More

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