It's your cottage." "Exactly," you reply "It's my cottage, so if you want to party here, you have to carry." Steve looks at you and laughs, "Ya, well ...ll the booze and shit is in MY car; so unless you want to invite everyone into a dry cottage, you'll be doing a little bit of carrying yourself." You see the wisdom in Steve's comments and make your way outside to the 'car'. It's actually a shitty 87' Chevy Caprice wagon that tends not to kick into drive, but he's proud of it. You move around to. I slowly moved my hand down her belly, until it reached the waistband of her pretty little panties. A weak voice deep inside begged me to stop, but I was too far gone into my deviant fantasy world to quit. My trembling fingers moved over the silken barrier, and through the supple fabric, tentatively cupped Susie's young mound in the palm of my hand. I was afraid to place too much pressure as not to wake her, yet from the core of my being I knew I was not going to stop there. Her panties were. More

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