Preachers Daughter Chapter 13 and Preacher Sucks
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Caught In Her Drawers free porn video
Foolish to be there at all, never mind all her knickers strategically placed ready for exact replacement back into her drawer. Normally a virtual plethora of beautiful undies hung about the place at various stages of the drying process, only everyone had gone rather tidy over the last couple of days.
Gorgeous G string made in shimmering purple, satin fabric with a delicate wide soft stretch edging lace band. Held up to the light they looked and felt fabulous, if only I could have a pair like them. WELL....
Foolish to be there at all, never mind all her knickers strategically placed ready for exact replacement back into her drawer. Normally a virtual plethora of beautiful undies hung about the place at various stages of the drying process, only everyone had gone rather tidy over the last couple of days.
Gorgeous G string made in shimmering purple, satin fabric with a delicate wide soft stretch edging lace band. Held up to the light they looked and felt fabulous, if only I could have a pair like them. WELL....
She was supposed to be half way to her mums, thrust the knickers back into the drawer. We worked together, lived together, only this was not my bedroom. She didn't think I'd find what I was looking for in there, my darling? Briefly crossed my mind to claim I was looking for a charger for my mobile, but that was so naff, what with her pink, white, red nd multicoloured knickers neatly lying all about me.
Froen to the spot she comes over to me, sneaker, crafty bitch. Don't you just love the violet colour. Ok, so violet then. Do pick them up again my love. Compliance seemed like a wise idea. No screams, no tantrum, no fuss? Would you like to try a pair on my darling? Sorry, forgot to mention, I'm the only boy in a house full of women, Steven actually. Say nothing, go with the flow, in enough trouble already with my landlady. Not like I could say I was only putting them away.
Please don't let the term landlady fool you as to image and the situation. Christine is a very attractive, intelligent and accomplished young woman, with a shock of hair to put Jennifer Ashton to shame. Certainly no lack of resources, maybe work meant hidden up in a bun or ponytail most of the time and hid the full glory of her hair. Her hand now on my shoulder she encouraged me. Oh, go on, we both know you would love to and she held up the red pair for me. Bit my lip and she continues to urge a bold approach to wearing women's underwear, don't be so shy, she was a modern woman and realised some men came uilt that way, as I no doubt clearly knew.
Necessity the mother of all invention failed me, must be the father I need, still nothing of value. She was surprisingly calm about finding me in her knicker drawer, her long elegant fingers start to caress my hair, her lips close to my ear. She whispers softly, we'll not tel ANYONE. No need for them to know. The bright red knickers dangled in my face, so daringly 'red', so vibrant. Are they not to die for, a put them on to have them taken off pair. Do go on she urged again, she would so like to see them on me.
With integrity failure in mind a hard to refuse generous offer. Unexpected levels of tolerance, acquiescence came easily. She helped to strip the clothes from me. No need to be nervous my love, as medical people naked bodies an everyday normal experience. Sort of nodded, words actually hard to come by, unlike downstairs finding plenty to get excited about. The whole lot gone, jeans as well, underpants tossed away, no hiding now.
We both bent to slide satin 'red' knickers slowly up my legs, so sensual. We should do something about those hairy legs my love, 'should we'. Her face filled my vision; her fragrance enveloped my senses and she reached over my shoulder and removed the elastic band from my ponytail. Played with my hair, made me feel like her Barbie Doll, then she arranged the hair to fall about me like a girl. Stood back to admire her work, tossed her hair at me, clearly enjoying the flirt. My nose drew in her aroma and now she touched her hair.
Downstairs totally happy with the turn of events and we wondered whether it looked better like that or tucked between the legs. A delicate ringed hand came up and she placed the tips of her fingers upon her neck, her other forearm across her body for the hand to support the elbow, the way women do when they consider a course of action. We came to a conclusion, probably too hard to easily tuck away.
Guilt about rummaging through her drawers drove me to apologise. Bit late for that my love. The offence done, apology alone not enough to justify my intrusion into her personal life, 'sissy boy'. All the girls used the term 'sissy boy' at some time, usually accompanied with a bout of giggling. Life was too pleasant to object. So could I think of anything by way of compenstion for my lack of integrity? 'No'.
What just no she asked? Her finger tips stroked her throat, still, if I could put everything away exactly as I found it she would give the matter her consideration, maybe I could pay a forfeit. Under various ums and ahs I proceded with the dlightful task. Or she could simply throw me out. 'No miss, a forfeit please miss' I pleaded. Why did I use miss, nothing wrong with using Chris, not apologetic enough perhaps. She smiled and rolled her eyes directing me back to the task, remember our superior feminine skillof being able to remember exactly where things are, so this time do it RIGHT. Of course, that must be how she knew, got it wrong on a previous visit.
How can women do that thing, slip her sneakers off without undoing the laces. Out of the corner of my eye, standing there hands on fabulous hips. Always did the does my bum look big in this, in spite of a terrific figure, very feminine with lovely wobbly bits. If only I could possess similar, maybe not quite Kim Kardahian proportions.
So my darling was everything back in exactly the right place. I noffed. Elegant fingers curled and I went over to her. A cuddle was my last expectation her lips again close to my ear. She ahd parallel thoughts, one to dress me as a girl for the day, the others all away for the rest of the day. Or, her favoured option for a forfeit would be to play homage to her shrine, the choice entirely mine. About to request more detail, only a matter of fact look said shrine. Pay homage to this warm and affectionate woman with a charming bed manner was a no brainer really.
The shrine thing please. Please what she demanded? Raised my eyebrows in enquiry. Politeness and unwelcome familiarity did not sit well together on matters relating to devotion, a shrine required more reverence. It took a moment to sink in, the shrine thing please 'Miss'. She always told the other girls sharp as a tack. She grabbed a couple of items of clothing telling me to wait there and disappeared into the bathroom.
This goddess came back, sheer black peignoir robe over black corset and a very familiar black leather mini skirt with a glimpse of black gartered stockings and high heel black court shoes that normally lay discarded somewhere. She looked so erotic, but then she always did even in scrubs at work. Strutted rather than moved over to me, sat on the bed rather stupidly in red knickers alone.
Her hand reached for mine and she got me to stand up. We pirouetted on the spot and she glided onto the the very edge of the bed. Looked at me in my stupid nakedness struggling to control emotion. She smiled and fussed a bit with her hair, even more rampant.
The Peignoir fell back to reveal a glimpse of breast fighting to get out of prison. Her arome floated up and long fingers drew me closer and with a deft nudge from her foot behind my knees I'm knelt before her. More tossing of her hair and a look of calm resolve, who knows I'm unable to deny her the slightest wish.
She leans towards me and her gentle voice reminds me to address her as Miss Christine, so she can relish my devotion. Was she entirely clear? 'Yes Miss Christine'. A warm smile of content spread across her face and I flicked back my own hair from face. Bright red face to match bright red knickers as lucious blue eyes held me in her spell.
Miss Christine uncrossed her legs to reveal no knickers and a hand drew my head towards her. Get my pretty nose down there and kiss it. She leaned back slightly, obviously not her ruby red lips which alone would have made my day. Placing my hands on beautiful white thighs for balance placed a kiss right on 'it', my shrine.
Looked up for approval to find indifferent eyes looked back. If that was my idea of a kiss of reverence I'd need to shake up my ideas, my education clearly in need of attention. This time a great deal more passion, devotion, reverence, lust, worship and veneration. Did a 'yes miss'. Yes Miss what she asked? #'Yes Miss Christine'.
'Did she give permission for me to stop?' No Miss Christine. She waited, she was clearly waiting, went back to my delightful task, to a gratifying 'mmh'. A hand held me between glorious thighs, should have been caught sooner rumbling through her drawers. Now some intensive to bring the juices from her, bring ,my shrine' to orgasm. A five inch court shoe heel flew over my shoulder and pinned me to her, the heel deep in my back. Pay particular attention to her clitoris. No way could I say 'Yes Miss Christine', so sort of mumbled and ran my tongue over said part of anatomy.
Her level of attraction grown from gorgeous to 'hot, soon found a lovely rhythm to please her, responding to all the tiny thrusts towards my tongue. My own sex strained inside red panties for relief. She slapped my hands away away with a command to rest them on her thighs alone 'sissy boy'. Her thrusts grew stronger and her gasps were of nirvana. Just rotating gently her rather pronounced clitoris at the front of her vagina
created ecstacy and thrusts so violent, almost enough to knock me out. The flood when it came surprised in intensity and she shrieked. Juices everywhere, and she called for me to lick her clean and begin again.
Eventually she lies back on the bed exhausted and I start to pull back. Did she give permission for me to stop worshiping 'my shrine'? 'No Miss Christine'. Very well, I leaned forward to my duties once more. Her hands adjusted matted hair behind my back, like the Barbie Doll thing again.
She'd changed her mind. I licked on, looking up to her, relaxed savouring all the attention. She was going to dress me as a girl. After all, we had all day now she was not seeing her mum. Tried to protest only this hand anticipated my move. This was not a matter for debate; it was the way thigs were going to be 'siissy boy'.
Gorgeous G string made in shimmering purple, satin fabric with a delicate wide soft stretch edging lace band. Held up to the light they looked and felt fabulous, if only I could have a pair like them. WELL....
She was supposed to be half way to her mums, thrust the knickers back into the drawer. We worked together, lived together, only this was not my bedroom. She didn't think I'd find what I was looking for in there, my darling? Briefly crossed my mind to claim I was looking for a charger for my mobile, but that was so naff, what with her pink, white, red nd multicoloured knickers neatly lying all about me.
Froen to the spot she comes over to me, sneaker, crafty bitch. Don't you just love the violet colour. Ok, so violet then. Do pick them up again my love. Compliance seemed like a wise idea. No screams, no tantrum, no fuss? Would you like to try a pair on my darling? Sorry, forgot to mention, I'm the only boy in a house full of women, Steven actually. Say nothing, go with the flow, in enough trouble already with my landlady. Not like I could say I was only putting them away.
Please don't let the term landlady fool you as to image and the situation. Christine is a very attractive, intelligent and accomplished young woman, with a shock of hair to put Jennifer Ashton to shame. Certainly no lack of resources, maybe work meant hidden up in a bun or ponytail most of the time and hid the full glory of her hair. Her hand now on my shoulder she encouraged me. Oh, go on, we both know you would love to and she held up the red pair for me. Bit my lip and she continues to urge a bold approach to wearing women's underwear, don't be so shy, she was a modern woman and realised some men came uilt that way, as I no doubt clearly knew.
Necessity the mother of all invention failed me, must be the father I need, still nothing of value. She was surprisingly calm about finding me in her knicker drawer, her long elegant fingers start to caress my hair, her lips close to my ear. She whispers softly, we'll not tel ANYONE. No need for them to know. The bright red knickers dangled in my face, so daringly 'red', so vibrant. Are they not to die for, a put them on to have them taken off pair. Do go on she urged again, she would so like to see them on me.
With integrity failure in mind a hard to refuse generous offer. Unexpected levels of tolerance, acquiescence came easily. She helped to strip the clothes from me. No need to be nervous my love, as medical people naked bodies an everyday normal experience. Sort of nodded, words actually hard to come by, unlike downstairs finding plenty to get excited about. The whole lot gone, jeans as well, underpants tossed away, no hiding now.
We both bent to slide satin 'red' knickers slowly up my legs, so sensual. We should do something about those hairy legs my love, 'should we'. Her face filled my vision; her fragrance enveloped my senses and she reached over my shoulder and removed the elastic band from my ponytail. Played with my hair, made me feel like her Barbie Doll, then she arranged the hair to fall about me like a girl. Stood back to admire her work, tossed her hair at me, clearly enjoying the flirt. My nose drew in her aroma and now she touched her hair.
Downstairs totally happy with the turn of events and we wondered whether it looked better like that or tucked between the legs. A delicate ringed hand came up and she placed the tips of her fingers upon her neck, her other forearm across her body for the hand to support the elbow, the way women do when they consider a course of action. We came to a conclusion, probably too hard to easily tuck away.
Guilt about rummaging through her drawers drove me to apologise. Bit late for that my love. The offence done, apology alone not enough to justify my intrusion into her personal life, 'sissy boy'. All the girls used the term 'sissy boy' at some time, usually accompanied with a bout of giggling. Life was too pleasant to object. So could I think of anything by way of compenstion for my lack of integrity? 'No'.
What just no she asked? Her finger tips stroked her throat, still, if I could put everything away exactly as I found it she would give the matter her consideration, maybe I could pay a forfeit. Under various ums and ahs I proceded with the dlightful task. Or she could simply throw me out. 'No miss, a forfeit please miss' I pleaded. Why did I use miss, nothing wrong with using Chris, not apologetic enough perhaps. She smiled and rolled her eyes directing me back to the task, remember our superior feminine skillof being able to remember exactly where things are, so this time do it RIGHT. Of course, that must be how she knew, got it wrong on a previous visit.
How can women do that thing, slip her sneakers off without undoing the laces. Out of the corner of my eye, standing there hands on fabulous hips. Always did the does my bum look big in this, in spite of a terrific figure, very feminine with lovely wobbly bits. If only I could possess similar, maybe not quite Kim Kardahian proportions.
So my darling was everything back in exactly the right place. I noffed. Elegant fingers curled and I went over to her. A cuddle was my last expectation her lips again close to my ear. She ahd parallel thoughts, one to dress me as a girl for the day, the others all away for the rest of the day. Or, her favoured option for a forfeit would be to play homage to her shrine, the choice entirely mine. About to request more detail, only a matter of fact look said shrine. Pay homage to this warm and affectionate woman with a charming bed manner was a no brainer really.
The shrine thing please. Please what she demanded? Raised my eyebrows in enquiry. Politeness and unwelcome familiarity did not sit well together on matters relating to devotion, a shrine required more reverence. It took a moment to sink in, the shrine thing please 'Miss'. She always told the other girls sharp as a tack. She grabbed a couple of items of clothing telling me to wait there and disappeared into the bathroom.
This goddess came back, sheer black peignoir robe over black corset and a very familiar black leather mini skirt with a glimpse of black gartered stockings and high heel black court shoes that normally lay discarded somewhere. She looked so erotic, but then she always did even in scrubs at work. Strutted rather than moved over to me, sat on the bed rather stupidly in red knickers alone.
Her hand reached for mine and she got me to stand up. We pirouetted on the spot and she glided onto the the very edge of the bed. Looked at me in my stupid nakedness struggling to control emotion. She smiled and fussed a bit with her hair, even more rampant.
The Peignoir fell back to reveal a glimpse of breast fighting to get out of prison. Her arome floated up and long fingers drew me closer and with a deft nudge from her foot behind my knees I'm knelt before her. More tossing of her hair and a look of calm resolve, who knows I'm unable to deny her the slightest wish.
She leans towards me and her gentle voice reminds me to address her as Miss Christine, so she can relish my devotion. Was she entirely clear? 'Yes Miss Christine'. A warm smile of content spread across her face and I flicked back my own hair from face. Bright red face to match bright red knickers as lucious blue eyes held me in her spell.
Miss Christine uncrossed her legs to reveal no knickers and a hand drew my head towards her. Get my pretty nose down there and kiss it. She leaned back slightly, obviously not her ruby red lips which alone would have made my day. Placing my hands on beautiful white thighs for balance placed a kiss right on 'it', my shrine.
Looked up for approval to find indifferent eyes looked back. If that was my idea of a kiss of reverence I'd need to shake up my ideas, my education clearly in need of attention. This time a great deal more passion, devotion, reverence, lust, worship and veneration. Did a 'yes miss'. Yes Miss what she asked? #'Yes Miss Christine'.
'Did she give permission for me to stop?' No Miss Christine. She waited, she was clearly waiting, went back to my delightful task, to a gratifying 'mmh'. A hand held me between glorious thighs, should have been caught sooner rumbling through her drawers. Now some intensive to bring the juices from her, bring ,my shrine' to orgasm. A five inch court shoe heel flew over my shoulder and pinned me to her, the heel deep in my back. Pay particular attention to her clitoris. No way could I say 'Yes Miss Christine', so sort of mumbled and ran my tongue over said part of anatomy.
Her level of attraction grown from gorgeous to 'hot, soon found a lovely rhythm to please her, responding to all the tiny thrusts towards my tongue. My own sex strained inside red panties for relief. She slapped my hands away away with a command to rest them on her thighs alone 'sissy boy'. Her thrusts grew stronger and her gasps were of nirvana. Just rotating gently her rather pronounced clitoris at the front of her vagina
created ecstacy and thrusts so violent, almost enough to knock me out. The flood when it came surprised in intensity and she shrieked. Juices everywhere, and she called for me to lick her clean and begin again.
Eventually she lies back on the bed exhausted and I start to pull back. Did she give permission for me to stop worshiping 'my shrine'? 'No Miss Christine'. Very well, I leaned forward to my duties once more. Her hands adjusted matted hair behind my back, like the Barbie Doll thing again.
She'd changed her mind. I licked on, looking up to her, relaxed savouring all the attention. She was going to dress me as a girl. After all, we had all day now she was not seeing her mum. Tried to protest only this hand anticipated my move. This was not a matter for debate; it was the way thigs were going to be 'siissy boy'.
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