Linsey’s gone back. Back to the future. She’s wearing the poodle skirt, the hair scarf, the cat’s eye glasses, the tight titty-blouse and best of all, the bullet bra with pointy “cone” cups that all the girls and women wore in the 1950’s. The kind of bras that gave women super-pointers, jutting and thrusting their headlights forward at a 90 degree angle. Where have these bras gone? If Linsey were superimposed into a TechniColor Hollywood movie with James Dean or John Saxon, she’d fit right in. Now alone in her bedroom after class, she waxes romantically about some jerk-wad named Billy who makes her little heart go thumpity-thump-thump and her knickers all soggy. It’s a sure bet that Linsey is going to do what her sex-ed teacher warned her not to do. The rampaging hormones of youth will alway triumph over the edicts of a dried up biddy and Linsey has just the right thing for the job. No, not A-hole Billy. A gift from an old pervert named Doc Johnson. Linsey may be the most stacked, curvaceous, hottest babygirl in her school but alone in her room, her horny, wet pussy needs a thick, hard tool sliding in and out.
