But then, suddenly, one of Bob's hands left her ripely quivering breasts and moved on down to stroke her thighs where the hem of her dress had slipped up. His fingers hungrily traversed the silky soft skin of her inner thighs, then moved upward, sliding the dress still higher until the tips of his searching fingers were resting on her warmly moistened cuntal mound and the white silk of her panties were glistening in the pale moonlight which shone in through the car's windshield. Only then did Rhonda feel the first stirrings of panic for Bob had groaned and clamped his lips hard around her rigid nipple while his other hand squeezed and kneaded the resilient flesh of her naked young breasts. The squirming young redhead felt confused, uncertain; she wanted to be rid of his moist warm mouth on her bosom, his lusting touch on her bare flesh – and yet she didn't want to be free of it. For a moment, she was undecided, and that was time enough for Bob to bunch her dress at her waist and begin caressing the smooth, flat plane of her exposed belly.

His fingers had slipped inside the elastic waistband of her panties almost before Rhonda realized what was happening, and suddenly he was tugging the flimsy material down, down over her pubic mound, sliding her panties from under her nakedly quivering buttocks. The moist heat of his palm pressed against her hair-covered pussy mound, and rippling waves of erotic pleasure threatened to blank the young girl's mind completely of the consequences of his actions. Gently, he insinuated his outstretched middle finger into the soft, warm cuntal slit up between her thighs, parting her moistly sensitive cunt lips and probing at the thin hymeneal membrane which gave mute testimony to her unsullied reputation.