I started at his shoulders and felt my way down his front. Reaching his waist I paused then plunged to discover his most sacred of spots. I rubbed and...stroked and squealed, when his manhood jumped at my loving touch. I was just getting into my new discovery when he stopped my touch. I looked up into his eyes in question and he just grabbed my hips and moved me to be under him with my legs spread open. Knowing what was coming he told me it would hurt but I let him in on a secret. As a teen I had. ”“And who is going to do that? You?”“You bet I will.”She actually hadn’t done that to me yet, but later that month she kept her word.We finally wound up on the crescent-shaped strand along Orchard Beach. This place was owned by the city, and there were two large 1930s-era Art Deco bathhouses. The beach was nicknamed “The Working Class Riviera,” which appealed to my sense of reverse snobbism. In truth, I actually preferred the state-owned Jones Beach out on Long Island, but it was very hard to. More

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