When met with writer's block, they looked to the sky.So real were their words, so honest and true.That a sleigh did appear and a real woman too!All pr...ncing around they vanished in a poof.They gathered all together and appeared on the roof.I could hear all their heels, all clicking around.When by the chimney I heard a sound.She was all dressed in faux fur, high heels on her foot.Fishnet stockings on her legs, sparking earrings to boot.A bundle of gifts she had flung on her back,And she looked. With her sitting there comfortably between my outstretched legs, playing with her perky teenage breasts and caressing her young bald pussy, I felt contented with the way my life was going.Her hands were resting on my thighs, and as she played with the hair on my legs she said “You know saheb, yesterday Sarla Bhabhi was asking about you...”“Yeah? What did she say?” I responded, continuing to play with her tits and cunt.“She asked if there were any problems or if Rani and I were giving you. Now was not the time for indulging in past adventures. Obviously, spiders had no opposable thumbs, so a key was unlikely. Nirella felt along the rocks bordering the giant entrance boulder.Aha! She put her weight on a loose stone and felt it give. A rumbling shook the ground, and the boulder rolled back, exposing a dimly lit tunnel that led deep into the earth. A deep breath to calm the nerves was all she needed to get started.Nirella moved through the winding spider tunnels like a ghost.. In my teens, I had used bathtime as a way to sneak illicit touches, fantasising about some older pop star or film icon. Now, at forty, the men who occupied my private moments in the bathtub were far younger. Moving my fingers inside of myself, I ran through the list of young men who had caught my eye recently: the twenty-something clerk at the bank, the new intern in my office, my stepson. My stepson! My fingers stopped moving as I mulled over my attraction to this young man. Barely twenty-one,.
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