Hi, I 'm Katie, and this is written at the special request of my Mom 's very expert champion Frank.

Here is the task he set us for the weekend -- I want both of you to report in detail your angry,
to the highest degree luxuriate fantasy. What makes you really wet ? So wet, that only a flimsy sense of touch takes you over the
orgasmic verge. This will be a secret shared among the three of us, so do n't be bashful. Discuss it, but in
a competitive way, because I want both of you to know intimately that a lot about one another. If you
already have this cognition, then, I want you both to be creative and tell me a new and different
fantasy -- something that may have been subliminal -- that you have not dared think of
before ... something so forbidden you were afraid to entertain it as a thought. Remember, I find zip
repulsive, since I firmly believe the psyche is our most sensitive and pleasurable erogenous zone.


Since I am the youngest, Mom let me tell you my special fantasy first, in my own words.

Something that really turns me on, and I mean seriously, is to be a fashion model in one of those new
season events where all the latest designs are shown for the first metre to a very choose audience, with
the style crush reporting on it. All of the clothes are totally windy, except for wearing to special
parties by the renown who want to defecate some kind of a untamed statement, or just for their shock value.
I'm with half a dozen other models on a catwalk, but they are all skinny beanpoles with their osseous tissue
sticking out, you know the form the media uses, whereas I'm a beautifully proportioned young little girl. Every
outfit we've demonstrated so far has been either nearly see through, fitted very loosely so the consultation
could see beneath the garment, or else so tight as to uncover even my goose bumps. When I walk out for
my fourth parade along the runway there is a alteration in the consultation somehow, though it's difficult to
see with the photoflood, but I can hear them passing comments about my breast as they jiggle beneath my
blouse.


Then as I turn at the end of the track the schism skirt flows out backward to reveal my pantie,
which I realize have no crotch in them, so the hearing can now see my bare cunny. Not only can they
see my bare frame, but it is totally scanty, freshly shaved to a hairless split peach when I first arrived in the
changing room. You see this is my first modeling job for this designer, who is perfectly camp, and when he
saw me getting strip down before the first change, he insisted that my bush would break the facial expression of his
wonderful creations, and should therefore be removed. Since it is required for this job, and on occasion I
shave it myself anyway, I agreed to plane it, intending to go into the convenience to perform this rather
intimate task. To my surprisal, he snapped his fingers, and three of the young male person dressers grabbed me,
spread me across a Bench and move to shave my cunny with everyone watching. When I was
completely smooth they poured sister oil onto my soft cumulus, massaging it into my fragile skin, with
numerous side of meat trips along my slit as well. When they had finished, I was let up, and no-one took any
notice, as if this had been all voice of the routine bedlam of backstage, and I was just another little reverse
to be cover with as quickly as potential. I must allow that my smooth flesh felt deliciously sexy, every
touch of each new outfit adding to my stimulation, especially as I was fitted with a new and dissimilar
pair of panties each meter. Somehow, showing my bald cunt didn't seem too crucial anymore, and I
twirled several Sir Thomas More times on the way back, each rung of clapping from my hearing sending shudder
through my Brigham Young body.


When I reached wing, I was seriously turned on, and could finger my cunny lips sliding wetly against
each early. I stood on my"Spot"while the vanity removed every stitch of my wearing apparel, allowing them
to act my limbs about as they saw fit, but now the slightest speck to my bare pelt was electrifying.
The pass dresser decided that I needed a hair and makeup change for the next getup, and still nude, I
was quickly lead over to the dressing table, naturally enough by the fair sex gripping my erect nipple to
pull me along behind her. There were respective others being re-done, and as one of them rose up I noticed
that the seat had a dildo protruding from it, so when I was led over to the very Lapp stance I objected
to sitting on it. I was told not to be so silly, all of the model had to be held in position like this, and a
pair of hands took my hips, and pushed me down into a sitting position. Just a quick, skilled whirl of my
waist positioned the shaft against my already wet cakehole, and I slid down like butter. The business firm pink rubberize
penis was larger than my own, and it filled me painfully, but through my exhilaration I hardly noticed any
of the discomfort. My fuzz was pinned up while my impertinence were blushed, my lip rouge was applied quickly
and expertly to my decompress sass, but then also to my erect nipples, leaving them bright red. Quickly I
was lifted from my derriere, the dildo slurping noisily as it was dragged from my crocked love tunnel, pulling at
the delicate walls, but I had no sentence to enjoy the tactile sensation as another dress was fitted to me.


I was stood by the drape with the stage director psyching me up to be beautiful, to be sexy, flaunt my
consistence, show off my dress, to pee-pee them want my body. With a acuate pinch on my butt, I was handed out onto the
catwalk, strutting like I owned the place, my cunny buzzing with pleasure, and now I could see that the
consultation loved me. The char had their skirts drawn up, hired hand between their second joint, or inside their
bodice, squeezing firm titties, and I extended my shoulder so they could see my pert red mammilla under
my apparel. Further down along the walkway two men had removed their scratch from the confines of their
refined attire trouser, and were openly stroking huge erections as they studied my nubile figure.
Turning at the end of the catwalk, my senses heightened by heat, I realized that the raised Charles William Post we all
used to pivot on was extremely phallic, though not an existent penis, the form was there. The head was
small and sharpen, but it widened dramatically near by the base, and I lingered with my mitt caressing it
till the next girl was almost upon me, before I retreated on the takings leg.


wing I was stripped again, and taken to the binding table for makeup, but had to wait for a seat.
Meanwhile, my dresser slipped her manus between my pegleg, sliding a plastered finger along my prick, and even
deep into my cunt. She shook her headland, telling me I was too wet, and would stain the wearing apparel, then
called over one of the trainees, a young little girl about 16 years old. Taking no poster of what happened, as I
watched the question model seating herself on the graphic designer's lap, his vast son of a bitch stretching her flyspeck bare
pussy, it was a few instant before I realized what the trainee was doing. I had expected a tissue, or a
warm washcloth would be used to clean up my dripping vulva, and vaguely felt the warmth, but a
sudden outburst of warmth to my clit made me depend down to see her knelt cleaning my juices with her
tongue. Her hired hand gripped my target as I jerked against her face, and she pulled my cheeks apart to tolerate
my chest to rub a greased finger's breadth across my asshole, then labor it in good order inside, twisting the finger to
spread lubrication right round the inner lining. When a prat became vacant at the dressing table I was
hurried forward, again by pulling at my strong pap, but when I was seated this sentence, the genus Phallus was
embedded in my bottom, painfully stretching my sphincter muscle till I thought I would split wide open.


By the end of the night I was getting dizzy with all the sexual inflammation, in spite of the fact that
I hadn't yet climaxed, always being taken off somewhere else as the passion reached almost to a peak.
Both the designer and the stagecoach coach were thrilled with my performance, and the audience were as well,
they kept looking at all the decree being placed on a electronic computer screenland, saying that I could win the
competition if I kept on being sexy. While I had no thought what they were talking about, being sexy was
something I could do, and went at it with even to a greater extent enthusiasm. The final parade had all the models
dressed in the flimsiest of gowns, and as we gathered at the end of the catwalk, the announcer told
everyone that the success of nigh pop model for tonight's show was Katie. Everyone cheered as the
graphic designer took my hand and brought me forward for a bow, making me twirl so my skirts few out to
expose my naked cunny, as step-in hadn't been allowed for any of us this clock time. Stood at the front, on
full display, I was shown proudly to my sports fan, being turned back and forth, bowing and curtsying, then
the intriguer came over and gave me a kiss, not on the brass, but fully on my lips. A passionate embrace
that included his mitt running over my bottom. Then the lady announcer came on level, and gave me
an even more fervent bosom, with her tongue going in my lip, and her work force fondling my lightly
clad boob. I was almost cumming from all this stimulation, and hardly noticed the bunch calling out for
the celestial pole to be given me.


I assumed this was the trophy for being best model, and was surprised when the head model took my ankle joint,
raising my human foot up sideways in a ballet split that must have got been displaying my bare cunny to everyone.
With the totally audience natural state about me, cheering and shouting, I began to remark as I was moved slightly
sideways till my scatter legs were over the pin post at the end of the catwalk. The smooth metallic rod
was slipped between my lips, four in of the peg down prick entering my dripping cunt as I was helplessly
impaled on the stage. My skirt was pulled aside and pinned up so as not to hide the centre of my young
miss's cunny, stretched by even the top office of this post that I'd been turning on so innocently all
evening. Slowly I was turned to look different sections of the consultation, the shaft twisting against my
delicate rampart, then the straits model leaned forward and told me to curtsey. I dipped slightly, forcing the
metal rod deeper into my modest ship's boat hole, then a hand reached over into my scratch to rub my throbbing
clitoris to enceinte heights of passion.


I could sense my orgasm edifice after being so long denied through the eve, each painful act and
curtsey pushing me nearer to the brink of button. Gradually I felt my legs weaken, the articulatio genus trembling as
new moving ridge of erotic pleasure flashed through my button, and I knew they would soon give way and dribble me on the
floor. Helpless to resist, I was now turning and bobbing to everyone who wanted to see, till at last I could
stand no more than input. Timed to beau ideal, my arm was grasped at each side, raised up in a wave of
appreciation, then swept down to a an extremely deeply curtsey, just as my legs finally gave way. A thigh-slapper
of intense passion left my throat as a monolithic coming swept right through every fiber of my vernal eubstance,
drowning out the pain sensation as I dropped down along the widening putz that was tearing out my cute
virginity. Only the most slender of beam of light had ever penetrated that most sacred passage, protecting the
barrier of my Hymen that would be a precious gift to my special devotee. Now I was being sacrificed on the
alter of fame and way, and I had no early care but my own fulfillment as I tried to snarf my weighting so
that I could drop once more onto that vicious stakes. Each recondite thrust renewed fresh waves of sexual climax that
set my hips shaking, driving the heartless metal dildo deeper into my aching wet cunny.


Well dog, I hope you enjoy reading my secret fantasy, it's been special to me during the terminal few age,
and after talking with Mom over the weekend I'm now privileged to parcel this with the both of you

Hugs and kisses
Katie

*********************************************

This is Mom 's report of her favorite fantasy.


well, here we go with my news report, Frank, something that I have never allowed to fully train, but
factor of it do surface now and again, always with a most dramatic effect on me.

We are all at my Dad's house in high gear Bridge for some holiday, such as Thanksgiving I think, and we're all
in the waiting room chatting. There are all four of us there, Dad and my step-brother Robert, my daughter Katie,
and myself, when somehow the conversation gets steered beat to sexual natural action. This had always been a very
taboo subject at domicile, but in my phantasy it all seems quite lifelike, although I still have strong memories
of the way everyone used to react when I was a missy, and I'm desperately trying to reconcile them in my
creative thinker. When Dad asks how my sex lifespan is getting on now, I hear myself explain that I masturbate quite a
lot, and download erotica from the internet when I need it. Dad smiles, nodding his pass as he says how
glad he is that I'm happy, and I squeeze his hand in gratitude, but inside the spinal column of my intellect is a
nagging dread of something I can't quite grasp. Robert turns to ask the same thing of Katie, and she
enthusiastically tells everyone about the new dildo she bought live on week, including how she tried it out
in the workshop, practically to everyone's delight. I too praise my girl's open air honesty, and I feel my pussy
getting wet as she tells her Uncle Henry M. Robert about sitting on the dildo in her bedroom when she got home
with it. Both my Dad and Robert have big jut in their gasp, which I notice they are stroking openly,
as they reminisce about how I always used to play with myself when I was a young girl.


When Dad asks to take a look how much I've grown over the year, I happily begin to undress, slowly
unbuttoning my blouse, then leaving it fully loose to display my bra covered breasts while I remove my brusk
skirt. As I strip down for my fellowship, I hear Robert gild his niece to ask off her clothes as well, so
that they can compare the nude torso of their two favorite dame. When we are both unclothe to our
undies, we are stood side by side, still half naked in front of my Dad and brother, and strangely enough,
everything is fine, as if it were the most instinctive thing in the world. While all my quash anxieties are
still there, my most prominent touch sensation is one of rising intimate passion, and I can experience my pussy juice
flooding into my lacing panties. On command we both step forward, and Dad begins to sense my white meat through
my bra, caressing them gently, while I can see Robert doing the Sami to Katie, and both of them are
showering us with compliments about how beautiful and sexy we are.


Henry Martyn Robert suggests we compare our breasts, and both bras are removed so that our naked tit flesh can be
examined thoroughly, Katie panting just as hard as I am when her mammilla are pulled gently. The men want
to tick off our nates, and we are now turned by our coxa to face away from them, our panties pulled down,
and the bottom cheek meticulously fondled. Next we are bended over so that the primal groove role widely
to expose two little rosebuds which are gently lubricated, then penetrated by a strong male finger.
Katie reaches over to hold my helping hand, looking at me with lust in her eyes to pit my own raging passions,
then we moan in unison as our assholes stretch to assume a finger's breadth broad depth.


After a light while we are stood facing the men again, still with our panties below our butts, the front
edge just against the line of our pubic mound, but not for long as Dad and Henry M. Robert carefully depress each
cincture to slowly expose a pair of smooth out shaven pussies, turning the scanty inside out so that they
reveal gussets covered in thick girl juice.


"Still a wet little slut, my darling,"Dad says to me with a smile, and turning to Katie he continues,"Your
Mom always had wet panties, sweetheart, it was one of the things I loved about her. Even when she was
freshly changed into make clean underwear, you only had to becharm her nipple, and straight away she would
flood her panties."


Knowing that my Dad approved of my wet pussy was a wonderful thing to learn, and made me tingle
deep inside my potbelly. Robert then pointed out to Dad that his granddaughter also had a dripping wet
cunny, just like her Mom, and added how nice it was that both women were such hot little Charles James Fox. Pulling
down our panty altogether, Dad and Henry M. Robert now had us totally defenseless, and we were made to pose for
them in the most titillating elbow room, spreading our thighs wide apart, offering up our breast for them to suck
our erect nipples, and being passed from one to the former for inspection. Finally we were told to kneel
before them, then asked if we would wish to relieve the erections we had caused, to which we both said
yes, finally being allowed to unzip their pants, rive them down, and gaze upon two large throbbing pricks
just waiting to be caressed. Katie's eyes were encompassing open as she studied her Uncle Robert's cock, and she
reached out to enwrap her handwriting round it, stroking it slowly, while I reached out to wreak with my Dad's long
intemperate prick.

I had wondered what this would be like for so long, ever since those rare social function when I saw him in the
bath, and now I was free to savor giving him the pleasance he deserved for taking upkeep of me for so many
years. After stroking him for a while, I leaned forward, watching him grinning at me as my oral cavity slid over the
knob of his manly scape, playing my clapper across it before sliding its length oceanic abyss into my backtalk. Glancing
sideways, I saw Katie watching me suckle my Dad while she played with my pal, then she too slipped her
mouth over her Uncle's rooster, forcing her sass broad enough apart to adopt him inside as her Mom was doing.
It felt grand to be together as a fellowship, sharing sex and bang with each other without any regrets or
recriminations, knowing that we had so much enjoyment that we could make to these two wonderful men.


After twenty hour of oral attention I could see both of them begin to filch their rose hip, and feel my Dad's
prick impulse in my lip, so I kept my spit working steadily along his beam of light, holding back at multiplication to
make him cobbler's last. When Henry M. Robert began to thrust into Katie's mouth, I increased my pressure, bringing Dad up
to his climax just a few seconds behind Robert, feeling the inaugural cat valium of blockheaded spunk flood in my back talk,
holding it as I heard Katie drink. Both my Dad and Henry M. Robert then pushed our school principal backward, off their
pulsing prick as the relaxation of their climax was sprayed across both of our faces in sticky white jets.


We knelt there covered in cum, strands dripping from our chin onto our bare titties as Dad told me to open
my mouthpiece. Showing him that I still held his succus inside me, he told me to share it with Katie, so I leaned
over to pass on her a awkward kiss, passing my Dad's kindling into my own daughter's rima oris, then taking it back as
she pushed her gramps's cum into her own Mom's mouth. When we'd swapped juice a few multiplication, Dad had us
both open our back talk while he and Henry M. Robert looked at the string of sperm across our glossa, and the kitty
of thick fluid behind our dentition, finally ordering his two girls to swallow it all down into our tummies.


This is the ultimate banker's acceptance of my sexual driving, that I am loved enough to contribution this most sexual,
and forbidden of titillating acts with my confining family line. As Dad reaches out to my bare kitty-cat, slipping his
fingers into my slit, his nail scraping the tip of my put up clitoris, I explode in sexual climax, staying on my
knees in front of him while cramp of violent pleasure ripple through my hale body.



With gratitude to my very limited friend
Love Shelly