His parents were unrepentant 1960's style hippies who had made it good. They were well educated and had great jobs but their life philosophy embraced ...any of the beliefs the "flower children" of the 1960's spouted. This was, perhaps, normal considering they had grown up in that decade. They had both been in love with the Beatles music as well as other contemporary groups. They had both been violently opposed to the Viet Nam War. They had read voraciously about the "free Love" and had read many. Less actually. She can’t just read the minds of every man or woman she meets to find out what they really think. She’s barely a teenager. She employed an ancient technique to better understand her man. It’s probably something she did by instinct.“I’ve never done it to a man myself, but I could see myself doing it to you someday since you’re the most important man in my life. And you know that I love you. And I know that you love me. But it’s still sometimes reassuring for a woman to see what’s. She smiled and brushed her hair behind her ears and gazed at me with her small eyes. Asian they were. Just like mine. Our lips connected again gently, then with more force. Her hands drifted up to my chest, circling them. I responded similarly and realised my hand was on her firm breasts. We smiled at each other gently and then embraced in another kiss, this time our lips parting, tasting each other’s tongues for the first time. They danced to unheard music, twirling back and forth, side to. I look over at my dad and I notice he was touching himself while watching us. "Wow, that's hot. Lick her again," my father urges. I still couldn't believe this was happening. I close my eyes this time as my mom slowly licks up the side of my face again, feeling her warm tongue over my eye, licking me all the way to my forehead. "Mmm, you taste so good, baby. Michael, get a taste." My father tilts lower, starting a lick between my cleavage, up my chest...my throat; licking all the way up the.
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