I tentatively stuck my tongue out for a taste, and even though we had both just showered, part of my brain expected the smell of pee in Becky’s arom... and I momentarily gagged. I spurred myself onward, remembering how delicious Becky’s pussy juices were when I licked them off my fingers a couple of weeks before. There was no taste or smell of urine, just the deep musk of her lubrication with the tiniest scent of soap. She was delicious. I was instantly addicted.Becky gave me a few directions,. The zipper on her skirt was a slightly harder tug, as it drew the lightly elasticized fabric tightly to her sculpted derrière. She lay the skirt aside as well, and sat on the antique wooden chair roll to unclasp her garters and roll the vintage silk stockings down her legs.She strode to the tub, swung her petite frame gracefully over the edge, and let herself slowly sink into the steaming water and mound of bubbles. She felt the water wash and flow over her, drawing her into a separate world of. More

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