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

Here is the task he set us for the weekend -- I want both of you to describe in contingent your raging,
well-nigh wanton fantasy. What makes you really wet ? So wet, that only a rebuff touch sensation takes you over the
orgasmic brink. This will be a secret shared among the three of us, so do n't be blate. Discuss it, but in
a competitive way, because I want both of you to hump intimately that a good deal about one another. If you
already have this knowledge, then, I want you both to be creative and tell me a new and unlike
fantasy -- something that may feature been subliminal -- that you have not dared think of
before ... something so taboo you were afraid to entertain it as a thought. Remember, I find nothing
repulsive, since I firmly believe the mind is our most sensitive and pleasurable erogenous zone.


Since I am the untried, Mom let me secern you my limited fancy first, in my own words.

Something that really turns me on, and I mean seriously, is to be a fashion theoretical account in one of those new
time of year events where all the in style designs are shown for the foremost time to a very prize interview, with
the fashion press coverage on it. All of the dress are totally impractical, except for wearing to extra
parties by the renown who want to make some variety of a wild instruction, or just for their daze value.
I'm with half a twelve other theoretical account on a catwalk, but they are all close beanpoles with their bones
sticking out, you know the form the medium uses, whereas I'm a beautifully proportioned Pres Young 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 soaked as to reveal even my goose bumps. When I walk out for
my 4th parade along the runway there is a modification in the consultation somehow, though it's hard to
see with the flood lamp, but I can hear them passing gossip about my tits as they jiggle beneath my
blouse.


Then as I turn at the end of the runway the tear skirt flows out backward to reveal my scanty,
which I realize have no private parts in them, so the audience can now see my bare cunny. Not only can they
see my bare flesh, but it is totally bare, freshly shaved to a hairless split up peach when I first arrived in the
changing room. You see this is my starting time modeling job for this designer, who is utterly encampment, and when he
saw me getting disrobe before the first change, he insisted that my bush would ruin the feel of his
wondrous creations, and should therefore be removed. Since it is required for this job, and on function I
shave it myself anyway, I agreed to trim it, intending to go into the restroom to perform this rather
intimate task. To my surprisal, he snapped his digit, and three of the Cy Young Male dressers grabbed me,
spread me across a Bench and proceed to shave my cunny with everyone watching. When I was
completely smooth they poured baby oil onto my sonant mound, massaging it into my delicate skin, with
numerous side head trip along my cunt as well. When they had finished, I was let up, and no-one took any
notice, as if this had been all part of the routine bedlam of wing, and I was just another little setback
to be conduct with as quickly as potential. I must admit that my smooth physique felt deliciously sexy, every
touch of each new outfit adding to my stimulation, especially as I was fitted with a new and dissimilar
distich of pantie each time. Somehow, showing my bald twat didn't seem too important anymore, and I
twirled several more times on the way back, each round of applause from my audience sending shivers
through my Danton True Young body.


When I reached backstage, I was seriously turned on, and could feel my cunny lip sliding wetly against
each other. I stood on my"touch"while the dressing table removed every stitch of my clothes, allowing them
to be active my branch about as they saw fit, but now the slim speck to my bare pelt was electrifying.
The head bureau decided that I needed a hairsbreadth and constitution change for the adjacent kit, and still bare, I
was quickly lead over to the fecundation table, naturally enough by the woman gripping my erect nipple to
attract me along behind her. There were several 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 same position I objected
to sitting on it. I was told not to be so silly, all of the models had to be held in position like this, and a
couple of bridge player took my hips, and pushed me down into a baby-sit posture. Just a spry, skilled twist of my
shank positioned the shaft against my already wet hole, and I slid down like butter. The business firm pink rubberise
penis was declamatory than my own, and it filled me painfully, but through my excitation I hardly noticed any
of the discomfort. My hair was pinned up while my impertinence were blushed, my lipstick was applied quickly
and expertly to my unbend mouth, but then also to my erect nipples, leaving them hopeful red. Quickly I
was lifted from my seat, the dildo slurping noisily as it was dragged from my blind drunk beloved tunnel, pulling at
the delicate walls, but I had no time to savor the belief as another dress was fitted to me.


I was stood by the drapery with the point theatre director psyching me up to be beautiful, to be sexy, flaunt my
body, show off my wearing apparel, to clear them need my body. With a sharp 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
interview loved me. The women had their skirts drawn up, hands between their thighs, or inside their
bodice, squeezing firm titties, and I extended my shoulder so they could see my pert red nipples under
my dress. Further down along the paseo two men had removed their dickhead from the confines of their
refined dress trousers, and were openly stroking huge erecting as they studied my nubile figure.
turn at the end of the catwalk, my senses heightened by passion, I realized that the raised stake we all
used to pivot on was extremely priapic, though not an actual member, the form was there. The head was
belittled and tapering, but it widened dramatically near by the stand, and I lingered with my hand caressing it
till the next girl was almost upon me, before I retreated on the replication leg.


Backstage I was stripped again, and taken to the stuffing table for makeup, but had to hold back for a seat.
Meanwhile, my dresser slipped her hand between my leg, sliding a soused finger along my puss, and even
deep into my twat. She shook her headway, telling me I was too wet, and would stain the clothes, then
called over one of the trainees, a young lady friend about 16 years old. Taking no card of what happened, as I
watched the head modelling seating herself on the designer's lap, his huge mother fucker stretching her bantam bare
pussy, it was a few moments before I realized what the trainee was doing. I had expected a tissue, or a
warm flannel would be used to clean up my dripping vulva, and vaguely felt the warmth, but a
sudden explosion of Passion of Christ to my clitoris made me see down to see her knelt cleaning my juice with her
tongue. Her bridge player gripped my butt as I jerked against her aspect, and she pulled my impudence apart to allow
my dresser to rub a greased finger's breadth across my asshole, then push it right inside, twisting the finger to
spread lubrication right round the inner lining. When a seat became vacant at the dressing tabular array I was
hurried forward, again by pulling at my solid pap, but when I was seated this metre, the phallus was
embedded in my ass, painfully stretching my sphincter till I thought I would split up wide open.


By the end of the night I was getting dizzy with all the sexual excitement, 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 interview were as well,
they kept looking at all the gild being placed on a computing device sieve, saying that I could win the
contender if I kept on being sexy. While I had no estimate what they were talking about, being sexy was
something I could do, and went at it with even more enthusiasm. The final parade had all the manakin
dressed in the flimsiest of gowns, and as we gathered at the end of the catwalk, the announcer told
everyone that the victor of most popular theoretical account for tonight's show was Katie. Everyone cheered as the
intriguer took my hand and brought me forward for a bow, making me twirl so my skirt few out to
expose my bare cunny, as scanty hadn't been allowed for any of us this time. Stood at the front, on
full phase of the moon exhibit, I was shown proudly to my fans, being turned back and forth, bowing and curtsying, then
the fashion designer came over and gave me a kiss, not on the nerve, but fully on my lips. A passionate embrace
that included his hand running over my rear end. Then the noblewoman announcer came on stage, and gave me
an even more fervent bosom, with her tongue going in my mouth, and her deal fondling my lightly
clad breast. I was almost cumming from all this input, and hardly noticed the gang calling out for
the celestial pole to be given me.


I assumed this was the trophy for being unspoiled model, and was surprised when the head model took my ankle,
raising my metrical unit up sideways in a concert dance schism that must suffer been displaying my bare cunny to everyone.
With the unanimous audience state of nature about me, cheering and shouting, I began to mark as I was moved slightly
sideways till my spread wooden leg were over the pivot man post at the end of the catwalk. The smooth metal rod
was slipped between my lips, four inches of the narrow light beam entering my dripping twat as I was helplessly
impaled on the stage. My skirt was pulled aside and pinned up so as not to hide the kernel of my young
girl's cunny, stretched by even the top part of this Emily Price Post that I'd been turning on so innocently all
evening. Slowly I was turned to face different subdivision of the audience, the ray of light twisting against my
delicate walls, then the head model leaned forward and told me to curtsey. I dipped slightly, forcing the
metal magnetic pole deeper into my small stamp hole, then a hand reached over into my slit to rub my throbbing
button to greater tiptop of passion.


I could feel my climax building after being so long denied through the evening, each sore turn and
curtsy pushing me approximate to the verge of release. Gradually I felt my stage weaken, the knees trembling as
new Wave of erotic pleasure flashed through my clit, and I knew they would soon give way and shake off me on the
floor. Helpless to withstand, I was now turning and bobbing to everyone who wanted to see, till at last I could
stand no Thomas More stimulant. Timed to paragon, my arm was grasped at each side, raised up in a undulation of
appreciation, then swept down to a an extremely deep curtsey, just as my pegleg finally gave way. A scream
of intense passion left my throat as a massive flood tide swept right through every fiber of my young body,
drowning out the pain as I dropped down along the widening tool that was tearing out my cherished
virginity. Only the most slender of putz had ever penetrated that most sacred passage, protecting the
barrier of my hymen that would be a precious talent to my special lover. Now I was being sacrificed on the
alter of fame and fashion, and I had no other care but my own fulfillment as I tried to lift my free weight so
that I could cast off once more onto that roughshod stake. Each mystifying thrust renewed tonic waving of climax that
set my rosehip shaking, driving the heartless metal dildo deeper into my aching wet cunny.


Well frank, I hope you enjoy reading my secret fancy, it's been extra to me during the last few years,
and after talking with Mom over the weekend I'm now privileged to share this with the both of you

clinch and kisses
Katie

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

This is Mom 's story of her preferred fantasy.


Well, here we go with my account, Frank, something that I have never allowed to fully evolve, but
elements of it do surface now and again, always with a most dramatic effect on me.

We are all at my Dad's planetary house in High nosepiece for some holiday, such as Thanksgiving I think, and we're all
in the lounge 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 round of drinks to sexual activity. This had always been a very
tabu subject at home, but in my fantasy it all seems quite natural, although I still have strong memories
of the way everyone used to oppose when I was a miss, and I'm desperately trying to conciliate them in my
psyche. When Dad asks how my sex life is getting on now, I hear myself explain that I masturbate quite a
lot, and download smut from the internet when I need it. Dad smiles, nodding his header as he says how
sword lily he is that I'm happy, and I squeeze his hand in gratitude, but inside the back of my mind 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 last week, including how she tried it out
in the shop class, very much to everyone's delight. I too praise my girl's open honesty, and I feel my pussy
getting wet as she tells her Uncle Robert about sitting on the dildo in her bedchamber when she got home
with it. Both my Dad and Henry Martyn Robert have big bulges in their pants, which I notice they are stroking openly,
as they reminisce about how I always used to play with myself when I was a Brigham Young girl.


When Dad asks to lease a face how very much I've grown over the eld, I happily begin to undress, slowly
unbuttoning my blouse, then leaving it fully exposed to expose my bra covered breasts while I remove my short
skirt. As I strip down for my family, I hear Henry M. Robert order his niece to pick out off her clothes as well, so
that they can compare the nude bodies of their two best-loved Lady. When we are both undressed to our
undies, we are brook slope by slope, still half naked in front of my Dad and brother, and strangely enough,
everything is fine, as if it were the most natural thing in the mankind. While all my repressed anxieties are
still there, my most salient tone is one of rising sexual passion, and I can find my puss succus
flooding into my lace panties. On program line we both step forward, and Dad begins to feel my breast through
my bra, caressing them gently, while I can see Henry M. Robert doing the Sami to Katie, and both of them are
showering us with wish about how beautiful and sexy we are.


Robert suggests we compare our breast, and both bandeau are removed so that our naked tit soma can be
examined thoroughly, Katie panting just as hard as I am when her tit are pulled gently. The men want
to stop our butts, and we are now turned by our hips to face away from them, our panty pulled down,
and the butt cheek meticulously fondled. Next we are bent over so that the central vallecula parts widely
to expose two trivial rosebuds which are gently lubricated, then penetrated by a warm Male finger.
Katie reaches over to defy my hand, looking at me with lust in her oculus to match my own raging passions,
then we moan in unison as our arsehole stretch to assume a finger wax depth.


After a short while we are put up facing the men again, still with our panty below our goat, the front man
edge just against the product line of our pubic cumulation, but not for long as Dad and Robert carefully down each
girdle to slowly peril a duad of smooth shave puss, turning the panty inside out so that they
reveal gusset plate covered in blockheaded miss juice.


"Still a wet fiddling slut, my Darling,"Dad says to me with a smile, and turning to Katie he continues,"Your
Mom always had wet panties, mantrap, it was one of the things I loved about her. Even when she was
freshly changed into clean underclothing, you only had to catch her tit, and straight away she would
flood her panties."


Knowing that my Dad approved of my wet pussy was a wonderful thing to hear, and made me prickle
deeply inside my tummy. Henry M. 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 fair sex were such hot short slyboots. Pulling
down our panty altogether, Dad and Henry Martyn Robert now had us totally naked, and we were made to sit for
them in the most erotic elbow room, spreading our thighs wide apart, offering up our titties for them to lactate
our erect nipples, and being passed from one to the other for inspection. Finally we were told to kneel
before them, then asked if we would like to relieve the erections we had caused, to which we both said
yes, finally being allowed to unzip their pants, deplumate them down, and gaze upon two large throbbing shaft
just waiting to be caressed. Katie's eyes were wide-eyed unfold as she studied her Uncle Robert's cock, and she
reached out to enclose her hired hand round it, stroking it slowly, while I reached out to play with my Dad's long
firmly prick.

I had wondered what this would be like for so long, ever since those uncommon occasions when I saw him in the
bathroom, and now I was free to enjoy giving him the delight he deserved for taking forethought of me for so many
years. After stroking him for a patch, I leaned forward, watching him smile at me as my mouth slid over the
pommel of his manly gibe, playing my tongue across it before sliding its length oceanic abyss into my lip. Glancing
sideways, I saw Katie watching me soak up my Dad while she played with my sidekick, then she too slipped her
lip over her Uncle's cock, forcing her lips panoptic enough apart to take him inside as her Mom was doing.
It felt wonderful to be together as a kin, sharing sex and love with each early without any rue or
recriminations, knowing that we had so much delectation that we could give to these two wonderful men.


After twenty minutes of oral tending I could see both of them start out to lift their hips, and find my Dad's
prick pulsation in my mouthpiece, so I kept my glossa working steadily along his shaft, holding back at metre to
make him live on. When Robert began to hurtle into Katie's mouth, I increased my pressure, bringing Dad up
to his sexual climax just a few s behind Robert, feeling the get-go jets of boneheaded kindling flood in my oral cavity,
holding it as I heard Katie swallow. Both my Dad and Henry Martyn Robert then pushed our heads backward, off their
pulsing cocks as the rest of their climax was sprayed across both of our faces in glutinous ashen jets.


We knelt there covered in cum, strands dripping from our Kuki onto our bare titties as Dad told me to open
my mouth. Showing him that I still held his juice inside me, he told me to share it with Katie, so I leaned
over to have her a awkward kiss, passing my Dad's kindling into my own daughter's mouth, then taking it back as
she pushed her Granddad's cum into her own Mom's mouth. When we'd swapped juice a few times, Dad had us
both open our backtalk while he and Robert looked at the chain of sperm across our tongues, and the pools
of thick fluid behind our teeth, finally ordering his two girls to bury it all down into our tummies.


This is the ultimate banker's acceptance of my sexual driving force, that I am loved enough to share this most suggest,
and forbidden of erotic routine with my closest family. As Dad reaches out to my bare kitty-cat, slipping his
digit into my puss, his nail scraping the tip of my erect clitoris, I explode in sexual climax, staying on my
knee in front of him while spasm of wild pleasure ripple through my whole body.



With gratitude to my very peculiar Quaker
beloved Shelly