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

Here is the task he set us for the weekend -- I want both of you to distinguish in detail your baseless,
most trifle phantasy. What makes you really wet ? So wet, that only a slight touch takes you over the
orgasmic verge. This will be a secluded shared among the three of us, so do n't be bashful. talk about it, but in
a competitive way, because I want both of you to know intimately that very much about one another. If you
already have this noesis, then, I want you both to be originative and evidence me a new and different
fantasy -- something that may have been subliminal -- that you have not dared think of
before ... something so proscribed you were afraid to flirt with it as a thought. Remember, I find cipher
repulsive, since I firmly believe the mind is our most sensitive and pleasurable erogenous zone.


Since I am the untried, Mom let me tell you my exceptional phantasy first, in my own words.

Something that really turns me on, and I mean seriously, is to be a way model in one of those new
season events where all the recent intent are shown for the for the first time fourth dimension to a very select consultation, with
the fashion press reporting on it. All of the clothes are totally impractical, except for wearing to peculiar
parties by the renown who want to take a crap some kind of a waste statement, or just for their jar value.
I'm with half a twelve former exemplar on a catwalk, but they are all skinny beanpoles with their bones
sticking out, you know the sorting the metier uses, whereas I'm a beautifully proportioned vernal girl. Every
outfit we've demonstrated so far has been either nearly see through, fitted very loosely so the audience
could see beneath the garment, or else so tight as to reveal even my zany excrescence. When I walk out for
my quartern parade along the runway there is a modification in the audience somehow, though it's difficult to
see with the photoflood, but I can learn them passing comments about my tits as they jiggle beneath my
blouse.


Then as I turn at the end of the runway the rip doll flows out backward to unwrap my panties,
which I realize have no crotch 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 beauty when I first arrived in the
changing room. You see this is my first modeling job for this architect, who is utterly coterie, and when he
saw me getting unclothe before the first-class honours degree change, he insisted that my chaparral would break the flavor of his
marvelous Creation, 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 restroom to perform this rather
intimate task. To my surprise, he snapped his finger, and three of the young male toilet table grabbed me,
spread me across a judiciary and move to shave my cunny with everyone watching. When I was
completely smooth they poured baby oil onto my gentle hill, massaging it into my delicate tegument, with
numerous side trips along my incision 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 subroutine chaos of backstage, and I was just another picayune setback
to be cope with as quickly as possible. I must admit that my smooth flesh felt deliciously sexy, every
trace of each new outfit adding to my stimulation, especially as I was fitted with a new and different
dyad of panties each sentence. Somehow, showing my bald slit didn't seem too important anymore, and I
twirled several Thomas More sentence on the way back, each round of hand clapping from my audience sending shivers
through my Pres Young body.


When I reached backstage, I was seriously turned on, and could feel my cunny lips sliding wetly against
each former. I stood on my"post"while the dressers removed every stitch of my clothes, allowing them
to make a motion my limbs about as they saw fit, but now the fragile soupcon to my bare skin was electrifying.
The oral sex dresser decided that I needed a hair and war paint change for the next outfit, and still naked, I
was quickly lead over to the fecundation table, naturally enough by the woman gripping my erect nipple to
pull in 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 Saame perspective I objected
to sitting on it. I was told not to be so silly, all of the fashion model had to be held in position like this, and a
twosome of script took my hips, and pushed me down into a sit around stead. Just a quick, skilled twist of my
waist positioned the shaft against my already wet hole, and I slid down like butter. The house pink rubberize
member was larger than my own, and it filled me painfully, but through my fervor I hardly noticed any
of the uncomfortableness. My hair was pinned up while my cheek were blushed, my lipstick was applied quickly
and expertly to my relaxed mouth, but then also to my raise mammilla, leaving them bright red. Quickly I
was lifted from my seat, the dildo slurping noisily as it was dragged from my blind drunk love tunnel, pulling at
the delicate walls, but I had no meter to bask the tactile sensation as another dress was fitted to me.


I was stood by the drapery with the phase director psyching me up to be beautiful, to be sexy, flaunt my
body, show off my dress, to gain them desire my torso. With a sharp pinch on my hind end, I was handed out onto the
catwalk, strutting like I owned the piazza, my cunny buzzing with pleasure, and now I could see that the
audience loved me. The women had their chick drawn up, hands between their thigh, or inside their
bodice, squeezing firm knocker, and I extended my shoulder so they could see my pert red nipple under
my dress. Further down along the walkway two men had removed their pricks from the confines of their
refined dress pant, and were openly stroking huge erections as they studied my nubile figure.
turning at the end of the catwalk, my senses heightened by passion, I realized that the raised post we all
used to pivot on was extremely phallic, though not an real penis, the phase was there. The point was
small and point, but it widened dramatically near by the base, and I lingered with my script caressing it
till the next girl was almost upon me, before I retreated on the return leg.


offstage I was stripped again, and taken to the dressing table for make-up, but had to wait for a seat.
Meanwhile, my dresser slipped her manus between my peg, sliding a stiff finger along my slit, and even
deep into my cunt. She shook her head, telling me I was too wet, and would sully the clothes, then
called over one of the trainees, a vernal girl about 16 years old. Taking no notice of what happened, as I
watched the mind theoretical account seating herself on the room decorator's lap, his huge dent stretching her flyspeck bare
pussy, it was a few moments 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 passion, but a
sudden fusillade of passion to my clit made me look down to see her knelt cleansing my juices with her
tongue. Her paw gripped my fundament as I jerked against her face, and she pulled my cheeks apart to allow
my actor's assistant to rub a greased finger across my bunghole, then labor it ripe inside, twisting the finger's breadth to
spread lubrication right round the inner lining. When a arse became vacant at the dressing board I was
hurried forward, again by pulling at my self-coloured teats, but when I was seated this time, the phallus was
embedded in my bottom, painfully stretching my sphincter muscle till I thought I would split astray open.


By the end of the night I was getting dizzy with all the sexual upheaval, in maliciousness 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 stage manager were thrilled with my performance, and the audience were as well,
they kept looking at all the order being placed on a reckoner covert, saying that I could win the
competition if I kept on being sexy. While I had no idea 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 poser
dressed in the flimsiest of gowns, and as we gathered at the end of the catwalk, the announcer told
everyone that the winner of to the highest degree popular model for tonight's show was Katie. Everyone cheered as the
designer took my script and brought me forward for a bow, making me twirl so my chick few out to
divulge my naked cunny, as panties hadn't been allowed for any of us this time. Stood at the social movement, on
full-of-the-moon presentation, I was shown proudly to my rooter, being turned back and forth, bowing and curtsying, then
the designer came over and gave me a candy kiss, not on the cheek, but fully on my lips. A passionate embrace
that included his hand running over my rear. Then the noblewoman announcer came on point, and gave me
an even more perfervid embrace, with her glossa going in my mouth, and her hands fondling my lightly
clad titties. I was almost cumming from all this foreplay, and hardly noticed the crowd calling out for
the Pole to be given me.


I assumed this was the trophy for being best model, and was surprised when the question model took my ankle,
raising my human foot up sideways in a ballet split that must possess been displaying my bare cunny to everyone.
With the whole hearing wild about me, cheering and shouting, I began to point out as I was moved slightly
sideways till my spread pegleg were over the pin Emily Post at the end of the catwalk. The placid metallic rod
was slipped between my lip, four inch of the narrow calamus entering my dripping cunt as I was helplessly
impaled on the stage. My wench was pulled aside and pinned up so as not to hide out the centre of my new
miss's cunny, stretched by even the top part of this post that I'd been turning on so innocently all
evening. Slowly I was turned to present different section of the audience, the shaft twisting against my
delicate wall, then the head model leaned forward and told me to curtsey. I dipped slightly, forcing the
metal pole deeper into my minor tender hole, then a script reached over into my slit to rub my throbbing
clit to greater acme of passion.


I could feel my coming building after being so long denied through the eventide, each dreadful turn and
curtsy pushing me nigher to the threshold of release. Gradually I felt my peg weaken, the articulatio genus trembling as
new moving ridge of erotic pleasure flashed through my clit, and I knew they would soon contribute way and drop me on the
story. Helpless to protest, I was now turning and bobbing to everyone who wanted to see, till at last I could
stand no Thomas More stimulus. Timed to ne plus ultra, my arm was grasped at each face, raised up in a Wave of
perceptiveness, then swept down to a an extremely trench curtsy, just as my stage finally gave way. A belly laugh
of acute heat left my throat as a monolithic orgasm swept right through every fiber of my young torso,
drowning out the pain sensation as I dropped down along the widening scape that was tearing out my preciously
virginity. Only the most slender of beam of light had ever penetrated that most sacred passage, protecting the
barrier of my virginal membrane that would be a precious gift to my particular fan. Now I was being sacrificed on the
alter of renown and fashion, and I had no other care but my own fulfilment as I tried to lift my system of weights so
that I could drop once more onto that cruel bet. Each deep thrust renewed fresh waves of orgasm that
set my articulatio coxae shaking, driving the heartless metal dildo deeper into my aching wet cunny.


Well Frank, I hope you enjoy reading my hush-hush fancy, it's been special to me during the survive few class,
and after talking with Mom over the weekend I'm now privileged to portion this with the both of you

hug and kisses
Katie

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

This is Mom 's tarradiddle of her preferred fantasy.


fountainhead, here we go with my account, Frank, something that I have never allowed to fully get, but
component 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 bridge deck 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 unit of ammunition to sexual activity. This had always been a very
taboo bailiwick at dwelling house, but in my fantasy it all seems quite natural, although I still have strong memories
of the way everyone used to respond when I was a young woman, and I'm desperately trying to settle them in my
mind. 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 net when I need it. Dad smiles, nodding his head as he says how
glad he is that I'm happy, and I squeeze his hand in gratitude, but inside the cover of my psyche is a
nagging apprehensiveness 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 end hebdomad, including how she tried it out
in the shop, much to everyone's delight. I too praise my daughter's open honesty, and I feel my kitty
getting wet as she tells her Uncle Robert about sitting on the dildo in her bedroom 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 dally with myself when I was a untried girl.


When Dad asks to convey a look how much I've grown over the years, I happily begin to undress, slowly
unbuttoning my blouse, then leaving it fully open 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 take off her wearing apparel as well, so
that they can compare the naked soundbox of their two favorite ladies. When we are both undressed to our
undies, we are stomach position by face, 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 humanity. While all my pent-up anxiety are
still there, my most outstanding feeling is one of rising sexual passion, and I can palpate my twat juice
flooding into my lace scanty. On statement we both step forward, and Dad begins to feel my boob through
my bra, caressing them gently, while I can see Robert doing the Saami to Katie, and both of them are
showering us with compliments about how beautiful and aphrodisiacal we are.


Henry M. Robert suggests we compare our breasts, and both bras are removed so that our defenseless tit figure can be
examined thoroughly, Katie panting just as hard as I am when her mammilla are pulled gently. The men want
to check our arse, and we are now turned by our pelvic girdle to face away from them, our pantie pulled down,
and the bottom buttock meticulously fondled. Next we are crouch over so that the central groove piece widely
to expose two minuscule rosebuds which are gently lubricated, then penetrated by a strong Male finger.
Katie reaches over to hold my hand, looking at me with lecherousness in her eyes to match my own raging cacoethes,
then we moan in unison as our assholes stretch to need a digit to the full depth.


After a brusque while we are remain firm facing the men again, still with our pantie below our cigaret, the front man
sharpness just against the blood of our pubic mound, but not for long as Dad and Henry Martyn Robert carefully lower each
waistband to slowly expose a duad of polish knock off snatch, turning the step-in inside out so that they
reveal gussets covered in duncish girl juice.


"Still a wet little slut, my ducky,"Dad says to me with a smile, and turning to Katie he continues,"Your
Mom always had wet panties, peach, it was one of the matter I loved about her. Even when she was
freshly changed into clean house underclothes, you only had to catch her nipples, and straight away she would
flood her panties."


Knowing that my Dad approved of my wet pussy was a grand thing to hear, and made me tingle
deep inside my tum. 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 picayune foxes. Pulling
down our panty altogether, Dad and Robert now had us totally naked, and we were made to dumbfound for
them in the most erotic ways, spreading our thigh blanket apart, offering up our titties for them to draw
our erect mammilla, 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 drawers, attract them down, and gaze upon two large throbbing pricks
just waiting to be caressed. Katie's eyes were wide open air as she studied her Uncle Robert's cock, and she
reached out to wrap up her hand rhythm it, stroking it slowly, while I reached out to run with my Dad's long
heavily prick.

I had wondered what this would be like for so long, ever since those rare occasion when I saw him in the
can, and now I was free to enjoy giving him the pleasure he deserved for taking care of me for so many
long time. After stroking him for a while, I leaned forward, watching him smile at me as my back talk slid over the
knob of his manly shaft, playing my tongue across it before sliding its length deep into my mouthpiece. Glancing
sideways, I saw Katie watching me suck my Dad while she played with my brother, then she too slipped her
mouth over her Uncle's cock, forcing her mouth wide enough apart to consider him inside as her Mom was doing.
It felt wonderful to be together as a family line, sharing sex and eff with each other without any regrets or
recriminations, knowing that we had so much enjoyment that we could dedicate to these two wonderful men.


After twenty minutes of viva care I could see both of them begin to rear their hip joint, and feel my Dad's
tool pulsing in my mouth, so I kept my tongue working steadily along his shaft of light, holding back at times to
make him last. When Robert began to thrust into Katie's backtalk, I increased my pressure level, bringing Dad up
to his climax just a few endorsement behind Robert, feeling the firstly spurt of thick tinder flood in my mouth,
holding it as I heard Katie swallow. Both my Dad and Robert then pushed our heads backward, off their
pulsing cocks as the rest of their climax was sprayed across both of our faces in sticky white jets.


We knelt there covered in cum, strands dripping from our Kuki-Chin onto our bare titties as Dad told me to spread out
my backtalk. Showing him that I still held his juice inside me, he told me to share it with Katie, so I leaned
over to give her a awkward buss, passing my Dad's spunk into my own girl's mouth, then taking it back as
she pushed her gramps's cum into her own Mom's mouth. When we'd swapped juice a few times, Dad had us
both assailable our sass while he and Henry M. Robert looked at the chain of sperm across our tongues, and the pools
of thick fluid behind our teeth, finally ordering his two female child to swallow it all down into our tummies.


This is the ultimate acceptance of my sexual drive, that I am loved enough to share this most intimate,
and forbidden of erotic acts with my close class. As Dad reaches out to my bare pussy, slipping his
fingerbreadth into my slit, his nail scraping the tip of my erect button, I explode in sexual climax, staying on my
knees in forepart of him while spasms of violent pleasance riffle through my whole body.



With gratitude to my very special acquaintance
dear Shelly