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It would get larger before he was through. A kiss on the inside of her thigh about six inches from the target sent a shudder through her. Another kiss on the same spot on the other thigh gave her another. He moved up a bit and gave her pussy a long slow lick, blowing on the wetness when he was through. The combination of his hot tongue and the cooler air he blew on her made her clit stand up even more erect and hard, aching to be given attention. She twisted and squirmed in her bonds, dying for him to get on with what he had planned to do to her. She feared what was to come and burned for it as well. They didn't call it "Le Petit Mort" or "The Little Death" for nothing and he had sent her to heaven more than once. She longed for another visit."OH MY GOD, SIR! Yes, oh yes right there! Oh, please lick me, lick your whore's dirty pussy! Please right there!"His hot mouth fastened over her pussy and his tongue plunged into her wet hole in one slick move and she cried in joyous reaction.. July 4, 1988 was my twelfth birthday. My dad had been away for nearly a month when he got back the night before, just in time for my birthday. I had a small party with my dad, the Santoses, and a few kids I played soccer with attending. It was nice but not as nice as if I had real friends like Joel and Janet or Anika and Mickey and my family in New York. My dad got me a bunch of new clothes, some souvenirs from Turkey, and a wooden practice sword. I also got some toys and soccer gear from my teammates, a few esoteric martial arts things from the Santoses (silk and steel fan from Japan and a small black leather case containing several tools used in ninjitsu), and a new bike from my grandparents in New York. Dad later told me that they had shipped it nearly four months ago in anticipation of the long shipping time it would have (since it would have to be moved several times by Army Intelligence in order to get to me untraced). Inside the box were several letters from everyone back in.
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