And then…my face turned bright red. I could feel her toes through the nylon, as she rubbed it up further and further. By the time she got over my knee, I was on the way to hyperventilating. I am pretty experienced— nothing too excellent, but I had a normal history. And yet this soft rubbing of her foot against me, especially seeing her smiling innocent face right across from me, made me feel as if I had just taken a shot or two of everclear.‘Heather…? Uh…’ I wasn’t at my most articulate.‘Shh…’ she said, moved over to me, and kissed me. Her hand gripped mine, and in about two minutes, I was on her bed, with her kissing me. I was lost. When her hands reached down to feel my jeans, I was even more lost. And, a second later, when she unzipped me and took me in her mouth, I just had to stare at the ceiling to remind myself that it was real. I didn’t even know if I liked what was happening. Of course, I am a normal man with desires, and I had liked her for a long time. But even when I was. Lilly was originally a lingerie model, lithe, but not lanky. Daisy was a fashion designer, svelte and graceful, athletic even. Serendipitously, they wore the same dress size. So they found sharing clothes handy when they eventually became roomies, yet nonetheless personal styles were distinct. While Lilly no longer models, Daisy keeps her hand in the trade and has several items that get sold to companies every year.Even before they met, their nicknames had been bestowed. That the rhyming monikers made an inadvertent sort of match was simply coincidental. Daisy was the daffy, ditsy party girl of her social set, as in, "Do you know what Crazy Daisy did last night?", her zany antics always on the wild side. More retiring, yet with a mischievous streak, the not-all-that-meek blonde was dubbed early on by her folks as Silly Lilly. Her escapades were quite the monkeyshines, often a practical joke on an unsuspecting parent or sibling. Meanwhile, she stood to one side looking innocent, until.
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