Shoes, socks, strawberry bush, ample and gorgeous ass, and those breasts that seemed to go on forever. She backed up, sat on her bed and bade me to c...me closer. She stripped off my shirt, tee shirt, jeans and shoes. Scooting up to the edge of the bed, she said, “You haven’t kissed my cunny tonight.” Naked, I dropped to my knees and started kissing her thighs, moving slowly toward where they joined together. Her bush tickled my nose as my tongue traced her lips. I breathed deeply, taking in. He admitted he knew next to nothing about her. Didn’t know if she could cook, or….anything. But someone had planted the flowers in front, and hung the wind chimes. Someone kept the house so clean it was nearly spit-shined. And made do with little or nothing…the nightgown was one clue, as were the handmade curtains in the kitchen window. She had not said one bad thing about her dead husband and he assumed that she loved him, and that was why she had stayed despite the beatings. Pity aside, he. More

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