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She was not Raquel Welch, or Jodie Foster, or Nicole Kidman. In fact, she wasn't beautiful at all, when compared to all those women who look normal when they get out of bed in the morning, and then look much better after six hours in hair and makeup. She was just a normal looking woman, with the kind of face that an observant man would detect cuteness-of-personality in. Especially if that observant man was lonely and desperate for any kind of normal interaction with a female of the species.Being a fairly observant man, I noticed she was wearing a Home Depot shirt, instead of an apron. That told me she was either a supervisor, who knew everything in the world ... or a trainee, who might know nothing at all. Based on her looking scared, I assumed she was a trainee.I looked at her chest, to see if there was a big round button that said "Trainee". There wasn't. All there were were two delightful breasts.She said "Can I help you?" again in this strained kind of voice.I looked back up at. I took a really deep breath, so she heard me smelling her, and I smiled up at her. She grinned ear to ear, and playfully ran her hands through my hair. I kept kissing and licking up her stomach to her breasts. And this time I went a little further up. I began softly kissing her neck and shoulder and felt a shudder go through her body. I kissed my way up her neck and nibbled on her earlobes. She let out a giggle, and then I felt her arms around my back, exploring my naked body. As I continued necking with her, I felt her hands tighten around my butt cheeks and pull me closer to her body. My cock was now resting on top of her furry mound, and I felt her begin grinding against me. I kissed my way back down to her pussy, which was now soaking wet. I pulled her legs open wide, and dove fully into licking her sweet pussy. In less than a minute, her nails dug into my scalp and I knew she was about to cum. She tried to closer her thighs around my face, but I held her legs open with my hands.
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There was no writing of any kind to identify what it might belong to. She put it down on the chest of drawers and withdrew the pamphlet. One side advertised the local tourist destinations, while the other was a map of the town, and the surrounding region - including her home, which had also served as a bed and breakfast since her grandmother’s time.Near the marker for her house was another for a spring where she had spent many a joyous day as a child. There, in carefully penned, but childish script, was an odd rhyming poem. She knew instantly that the handwriting was her own, but remembered nothing of writing it.It read, “The ring in winter. The spring’s beautiful sleep. Touch in its center. The promise she’ll keep.”Though the words made absolutely no sense, reading the poem made her smile return again.A knock sounded on the door. “Honey, breakfast is ready.”Crystal turned toward the door and responded, “I’m getting dressed. I’ll be right down, Mom.”“Your aunt made blueberry.

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