I was caught cold, just like a mouse in a trap with peanut butter on it. My ears were also burning with the statement about her having been ‘felt up...’ I had been reasonably sure that I was the only person to have ever touched her at all. But I knew enough to keep my mouth shut about that since Sharon now knew I had slept with Margaret who she saw around town regular as clockwork. One of her friends. Well, not sleep, it was in the back seat of a 1956 Desoto I had at the time. That was her idea,. Or at least, more vivid to me. Now each waft was touching me intimately. The first few had stopped at my knees. The next wave had only run out of steam halfway along the soft, hungry skin of my inner thighs. Now the tiny gusts were hitting my pussy.Each one still took its sweet, slow time to get there. It coursed a slow passage along my legs, like a lover’s soft hands. Then, it unfurled through the taut navy archway my dress had drawn. And finally it fell onto my inflamed vagina. It landed like. More

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