“Never?”
“Never.”
“Why not?” Taylor asked.
“I don’t know. it just never happened.”
“Did you ask?” she queried.
“I didn’t. That is probably partly why. Would you? Give me a blow job?”
“… maybe…” She smiled. She was young. Also beautiful, in a tall strong athletic way.
I remembered her at the water park last summer with my daughter. Eliza was young then. Just tall enough that her head was the same height as Taylor’s crotch. Taylor was standing just behind as Eliza was speaking. I don’t remember what she said but I remember that red string bikini. It was from the summer before… back when Taylor was only 17. At 18 now with a little fuller figure, the strings… the fabric strained to contain the flesh underneath. Eliza continued to talk but I was staring just to the left of her head- directly at Taylor’s bikini covered mound. The front panel was low cut so I could see the curve of her lower stomach. That muscle by the hip bone in a perfect V of pelvic cradle mesmerized me. The red strings that tied the tiny flag on her dangled half way down her fit thigh. But the best part, so perfect, so mouthwatering, her mons… was so puffy, so visible through the thinnest possible fabric- the cleft clearly visible- it was all pulled so tight I could see the separation of her lips. I watched as long as my daughter talked. I was in heaven. My mind was reeling. It was the most erotic sight of my life.
Earlier that same day as I watched from the shade… with my sunglasses safely on… I watched her stop chasing my daughter through the fountain, wet from head to toe, hair slicked back, breasts also bursting to get free from last season’s creation. In the middle of dozens of kids, she reached down and untied the side string keeping her modesty barely covered. She tugged tightly, pulling on the strings, opening the side of the bottoms widely. Giving an unobstructed view of her hip, and side of an ass cheek to everyone. Then slowly , deliberately, she re-tied the bottoms. It was delightful.