A frame, if you like, waiting for some art. But this one didn't really fit with the rest. I don't think you could see this very well if you drove past... but in the middle of the lawn there was a large, elaborate pile of rocks. I'm talking three or four trailer-loads of them, various sizes, shapes, types, and presumably weights. But all these rocks had something in common. They had been painted. Rather carefully painted, by the look of them, and all in soft, delicate, pastel colours. You can. *Click, click.*The next few days were uneventful. Life carried on; she done her usual routines, work, shopping, socializing and such. Then came Franks' funeral. 'Should I go?' she thought to herself. 'I probably should. Not to raise suspicion.' She pulled on her little black dress that hugged her body in all the right places. Black leather knee high stiletto boots that left just enough thigh on show. Laura curled her hair and left it out, just the way Frank liked it. *Click, click.*The funeral. His hand moves slowly down her tummy, making her squirm with delight. She pulls his head down for another slow lingering kiss. His hands all over her body now. She moans softly against his mouth. His one hand slowly slides down to her entrance, feeling how wet she is. He presses his hardness against her thigh, making her feel how much he wants her. He moves down, making her protest against losing the warmth of his body on hers. She gasps as his warm mouth finds her petals, lovingly adoring. I've noticed lately that my little sister has been wearing skimpy and very sexy clothes around me at the house. She's been doing it to me for a couple of weeks now, and it seems like she's been getting more and more daring each day. One day when she was wearing a particularly skimpy outfit she bent over to pick something up and her small lace panties slid off to the side a little giving me clear view of her tight shaved pussy. I knew it was wrong but this sight gave me an instant hard on. Later.
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She’d held no grudge, had told no one, not Daddy, not even her mother, nor her Priest. Not a soul. She’d kept it close to her heart, it was the on
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