Trish (Dad's Old Flame)

"Hey, Nick," comes a sudden low but unmistakable voice, "that you, little honey?"

You turn and see a woman you haven't seen in some time. She's tall and broad and black and the kind of woman songs like "She's a Brick House" were written for. She's simply known as Trish and she's an old flame of your dad. You once followed him to this area and that's how you met Trish the first time. Now her majestically large body sweeps to you and not so much hugs as envelops you in warm fleshy goodness. Most of your head is temporarily buried in her exposed cleavage (and she's got a lot of cleavage to expose.)

"Look at you," says Trish, "all growed up. Looking more like your daddy every day. Almost thought you were for a minute and nearly greeted you like I used to greet him."

"Oh?" you say, looking up at her, "And how was that."

"Like this," says Trish, cupping your chin and swooping.

Her huge soft lips cover yours in a long, hot, wet, and deep french kiss. After the initial shock, you just go for it and enthusiastically kiss back, clinging to her enveloping body. After quite an interval, Trish separates her lips from yours with a loud and lewd smack.

"And you react the way he did," she says, gently patting the front of your pants.

Her eyes widen. Apparently, Trish has just discovered how much you’ve “reacted” or perhaps just how much you have to react with. She looks around furtively, then slings an arm around you to guide you off.

“This ain’t a safe neighborhood,” she says, “so you better let me pal around with you so you’ll be safe. It’ll be fun. Say you’ll keep me company today.”

You don’t really have much say in that, but it does sound like fun…and there’s always school tomorrow.