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What a shame… I said grabbing the collar of her dress and ripping it violently open, making her arch her back and those 34B beautiful breasts to bounce freely for me. She closed her eyes and started crying as soon as I filled my hands with those perfectly shaped breasts, topped by light brown nipples. God, her body was so perfect. Since a girl was well-made Ive never had a particular type. I liked them petite, tall, with more or less flesh to grope, any hair color… As long as they were beautiful in their own way. And by that moment I couldnt imagine a model-like blonde more perfect than her. Where were those model agencies that didnt see this treasure here? In hindsight, I had to be glad that they didnt find her, or the entire world would miss her now. N-Nooo… She whimpered when I groped her breasts firmly, squeezing from its base to its top, softly pinching her nipples. Gave up already? I expected more from you before pleading like this, I teased. I shouldnt have hit her so hard.. He went into the right stall, and closed the door.She heard a click to her left. Everything started to move in slow motion. The stall door opened, and the biggest blackest man she had ever seen slowly walked out. He was a sight. He had a chiseled jaw, and sharp dark eyes. His hair was slightly long and tied back. Gosh, Jane thought, he must be a model. She lower her gaze to his shoulders and chest. He was built like a pro athlete, with great biceps, solid shoulders and a slightly rippled chest. Her gaze lowered down to his stomach, which was a washboard of abdominal muscles. Uncontrollably, her mind felt her hand rubbing down this black man's stomach, down and up each of his defined abs. The abs were covered with a slight trail of pubic hair down to. . . down to . . . her jaw opened slowly, dropping in slow motion.Between the defined muscles of his tree-trunk-like legs was something quite puzzling, even shocking. It wasn't the green Speedo he was wearing. It was what was inside, or.
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The next morning I got my next surprise. She put on a bathing suit, but not the one piece conservative number she'd worn on the weekend. This was a bikini, the cups simple triangles that exposed the creamy upper curves of her breasts. The bottom was narrow and high-cut, exposing her thighs and hips, and it didn't cover all of her buttocks. "What happened to the black suit?" I asked in surprise. "I wore that for two whole days," she said as if in surprise. "You don't expect me to wear the same suit forever do you?" "I guess not," I said. "It's a bit...small, isn't it?" "Mr. Paul!" she protested. "Don't be an old fogey. This is what's in." "If you say so," I said. Who could understand women? One suit was plenty good for most guys. Women, though, seemed to need at least three. I tried not to look anywhere I shouldn't, reminded myself of her age, and that she was my step-daughter, and went fishing. When I got back she was laying on the sand, all spread out, skin glistening with.

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