S., not an Mrs. And she was smart enough not to fall into the trap of confusing lust with love. So here it was, four years later, and she was sitting on the couch in her apartment, holding the letter in her hand. Actually, it wasn’t even a real letter, it was a computer-generated card that was imprinted with her name and social security number across the upper left , her name and address in the center, and across the bottom, “Principles And Practice of Engineering 85 PASS”. Her hand shook as she read it over and over. I passed! … Yes! She was grinning from ear to ear, and she thought about the sick joke they used to wryly repeat while in college: “Two weeks ago I couldn’t even spel enginer, now I are won.” She stood, and crossing to the wine rack, stooped down and took the bottle of Cliquot Grande Dame from the bottom shelf. Handling it gingerly, as if it were as valuable as a bottle of 61 Mouton Rothschild, she gently placed it on its side in the refrigerator, and glanced at her. I said, "You sure about this?"She nodded. Didn't say a word. So I walked up to her, pulled her skinny naked body against mine, and started kissing her. She gasped, slid her tongue in my mouth, and we went at it. We were kissing, and I was rubbing her back, moving my hands down to her little ass, and around her legs. She was breathing really heavily, so I moved my fingers around to her waist. She gasped again, and I kept kissing her. I put my hands around her shoulders, and I was kissing her.I heard my step daughter say, "Wow. That's like, really kinky."That really got me going. I moved my hands down to Kristina's little boobs, and started playing with her nipples. She was panting really hard, so I just kept playing, touching, and moving my hands all over her. Down across her little flat stomach, and lower. So slow. So slow. And moving them lower.I looked down, and saw Kristina move her legs apart. My fingers moved down her stomach, rubbed her pubic hair lightly, and I started.
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