Flying saucers, liquorice sticks filled with sherbet, toffees, creamy squares of fudge, boiled fruit drops, all manner of sweets. She likes the fudge best. Mrs Edwards makes the fudge herself. She wishes she could make fudge.She finds a safe place to cross the road and hurries across, all the time checking for cars coming. She'd been run over when she was 8, broken her arm and been in plaster for 6 whole weeks. It's a long straight road, so the traffic can be fast flowing. Safely across and she's at the gates to the park. She looks straight to the swings. They're empty. So is the roundabout. They're both her favourites. There's only one other person that she can see, it's that boy from down the road. He doesn't play out with the other children, she only ever sees him walking the dog, out in all weathers. She feels sorry for him, he doesn't even have a coat, she thinks he must get very cold.Climbing on to the swing and wriggling her bum into place. You have to be exactly in the middle. I began to unbutton my shirt and the realization of how hard my nipples still were overtook me. She saw me hesitate."What's the matter?" Nothing," I stammered."Trust me," she said.Taking off my shirt I looked down at my nipples. They were hard enough to cut glass and extended out further than they ever had. My chest had a warm feel to it, a shimmer of excitement passed over me as I dropped my shirt to the floor and was exposed to her. Her eyes took note of this, but she said nothing and motioned for me to continue.I undid my belt and slipped down my pants and underwear. My formerly beautiful and proud cock now never grew to more than four inches. I turned red with embarrassment as she stood from her chair and crossed to me. I was a deer in headlights, unable to move or speak.Her warm lips touched mine, and her breasts lightly made contact with my exposed chest. Her tits against my nipples felt nice in a way I couldn't begin to explain. She kissed me again, and now took my limp penis.
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