As Livinia watched me build two more Irish coffees, she began to realize that at our present rate of consumption, the excessive quantity of heavy cream she had whipped would last roughly until her daughter had a Doctorate.As Livinia watched me build two more Irish coffees, she began to realize that at our present rate of consumption, the excessive quantity of heavy cream she had whipped would last roughly until her daughter had a Doctorate...and Sabrina had just turned twelve at the time. "That's too much whipped cream," she remarked. "I made too much." "That's okay. I'll have some on my desert later, when I eat it." As she replaced the bowl in the refrigerator she looked inside. "Desert? I don't see any desert? What desert?' "You." She looked at me for a moment, still half-bent. Her posture made the loose robe snug around her butt. Yeah, it would be great to smear whipped cream all over her creamy, smooth flesh and lick it off -- with extra attention around her oversized clitoris. She blushed and then shivered a little. She straightened and closed the door, leaning against refrigerator. I resumed my construction of the Irish coffees. "That would be very sticky." "Have to lick every last little bit of it off, then, won't I?" "And very messy..." "Have to lick it all twice then." "And very niiiiice." "Living room." I followed her petite form -- all but hidden in my terrycloth bathrobe -- down the hall and back to the living room. She let herself flop onto the couch, closed her eyes and gave a little shiver. "Cold?" I set the two mugs down and then set myself down next to her. She giggled. "No -- I was just thinking about your nice tongue and your nice hands and your nice little cock -- " "Livinia, would you please stop calling it little? I was twenty- five before I realized it's normal. |