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Sure enough, I could hear the music from downstairs as well as another source coming from her room. I crossed the balcony to her room and softly knocked on the door. No answer. I tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. I eased it open. She wasn’t in there.Then I heard a door downstairs open and someone grunting as if moving something heavy.I closed her door and went to the balcony. Alyssa stood in the back door, tugging at the handle of an old wagon I played with as a child. Boxes, probably Christmas decorations, were stacked on top of the wagon. Knowing what most of those boxes contained, I knew those boxes weren’t light.“Good thinking!” I called out.She spun around, looking for the face to go with the voice. “Who is that?”I grinned and shifted to a ‘spooky’ voice. “It’s the spirit of Christmas Past!”She looked up and glared at me. “Very funny. Now, get down here and help me.”I went back downstairs, and helped her bring in the wagon full of boxes. Once inside, we spread the boxes out. Soon passages of exit, routes and the like shrunk before becoming non-existent. What&hellip,what is going on? She spoke in a voice was revealed her knowledge of the grave-ity of the situation. And that was the voice that I have grown to long and love. You tell us. Dave chimed in as he neared her. All four of the boys closed in on her, forcing her to step back, back enough for her luxurious and plump ass, wet and goosebumped to rub against me, rub against my manhood which I soon realized was raging. With her back turned, my hands snatched outward, grabbing what I wanted to grab, her famous, ever popular breasts. This mind of mine melted, fog became heavy and I acted on pure instinct, a rarity for someone of my&hellip,.caliber? Yes, caliber. Even before any of my friends had a chance to sample her bodies tender and ripe for the plucking fruits, I set the pace for what was to come. My hands snatched with ferocity upon those fleshy orbs of fat, the parts of her breasts that her arm.
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