“Did I tell you to stop stroking?”She'd bitten her lip, a moan escaping her. She’d been on the edge for half an hour that evening, her clit swol...en and sensitive. Touching it just a fraction too hard could make everything fall apart. The pictures he'd taken said it all. Her legs were spread wide, open to him. Her thin t-shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to her breasts, nipples visible through the white cotton. She looked sexual; wound up and desperate. “If you don’t want to stroke it, you can. Covering her legs were black pantyhose and three inch blackstilettos. Aunt Robin stood tall with her arms crossing without a singlegray hair out of place tied in a tight bun. Behind Aunt Robin was asignificantly younger woman who was dressed in a simple outfit consistingof skinny jeans, white blouse and sandal wedges. The younger woman woreher wavy brown hair down with only a few accessories holding the hair inplace. Out of Simon's ferocity, he noticed that the younger woman was. More

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