Debbie laughed and we proceeded down the hall to what we now called our “den of pleasure”. I laid Debbie back on the bed and decided a little fore...lay was in order. I kissed her passionately concentrating on her lips, neck and tiny breasts; I blew softly in her ear and asked her again if I could have her ass. Soon, my hand wandered down to her ass crack where lube had dripped into her ass giving me a convenient excuse to begin fingering her rosebud. Debbie moaned in pleasure as my finger. One of them had a partially finished oil painting of a landscape on it. The other was covered by a drape. I was used to the clutter of art stuff in the room. All I did was sleep there, occasionally, and didn’t spend a lot of time in that room.“Stand over there,” she said, pointing to a spot about seven or eight feet from the draped easel. I did and, with a “Ta da!” she dragged the sheet off of the portrait she’d drawn of her mother.Harper might have all the time in the world to finish her. More

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