But little Lisa didn't feel at all ill at ease. She came up to Paul and put her thin arms around his neck for a kiss, and he bent over to her without thinking. He was aware how much taller he was. Then he felt his arms encircling her warm, soft body and his body was flooded with feelings from his mostly forgotten erotic dreams of the previous night.

He pressed her to him and eagerly sought her lips. Her mouth parted for him and his tongue slowly penetrated her wet pink lips. Her little body pressed against him. She was wearing a thin cotton gown, very short, and her little nipples pressed into him. His hand trailed down her back, over her round asscheeks, and under her gown. He ascertained she was wearing bikini panties of very thin cotton, and he stroked the crack of her ass through the cotton.

"I was sorry you left. But I wasn't mad!"

"Good! She kissed him again. "I was just gonna have some orange juice. You want some?"

"I'd love some!" Paul laughed.

"Sit down," she invited seriously.

Paul sat down at the dinette table and watched Lisa preparing frozen orange juice. Her thin flannel gown was baby-pink, and he soon observed that her cotton panties were the same color. She danced around the kitchen barefoot, and every half-minute she found some task requiring her to reach high or bend low, so Paul had plenty of opportunities to study her perfectly rounded little ass under thin panties.

She turned serious eyes on him and said, "I could warm up some of the coffee from breakfast if you'd like some."

The eagerness in her voice suddenly made Paul realize she was playing a part with him. A part learned from thousands of hours of watching domestic scenes on television and movie screens. She was playing a half-real, half-fantasy game of "house" with him, and she was offering him coffee as if they were lovers meeting in the kitchen set of a soap opera.