After what took place on Tuesday, Mrs. Anderson told me to come around Thursday, around ten. So Thursday morning comes around and I'm sitting around. I look out the window and what do I spy? Little Bobbie Gershwin from next door is outside cutting the lawn, in a halter-top and a tight pair of Daisy Dukes of all things . . .
Bobbie Gershwin has this HUGE rack, and whenever she rocks by with that balcony of hers there's this dialogue that goes on in my head:
Please . . . just five minutes with those puppies is all I ask . . . let me just IMMERSE myself in all that glorious titflesh and have my WAY with them and get it out of my system once & for all . . .
One little feel is all I ask . . . Dear Gawd in Heaven please let me have one little squeeze & I'll be good and go to church every Sunday for the rest of my life just one little feel maybe a squeeze perhaps a motorboat . . . let me titfuck her and I'll become a priest . . .
But of course none of THAT was going to ever take place, so instead I picked up my keys off the kitchen counter and drove over to see Mrs. Anderson . . .
Just like the first time, when I rang the bell the door was open, and I heard Mrs. Anderson call out, "Door's open, come on in Dave." I went inside but she was nowhere to be seen. "I'm back here, Dave. Down the hallway."
Down the hallway was Mr. and Mrs. Anderson's bedroom. I knew it from when Tommy Anderson and I used to hang out at the Anderson's place.
I went down the hallway. The door to Mrs. Anderson's bedroom was open.
Mrs. Anderson's back was to me. She was standing in front of her full length mirror, clad in only a black bra and a pair of black thigh-hi stockings. She had her blond hair done up on top of her head; what caught my attention first were the little golden hairs at the nape of her neck. My eyes then traveled from the back clasp of her bra, down the line of her back. Between her black bra and the tops of her thigh-hi stockings, Mrs. Anderson was bare-ass naked.
Mrs. Anderson turned back and forth as she inspected her image in the mirror over the tops of her reading glasses. "I had my pussy waxed, David. Do you like it?"
Her natural bodily hair was cropped close, narrowed down to a tight Mohican. She was completely bald from the clit on down.
"Uh, y-e-a-h . . ."
"A lot of girls are having their pussies waxed completely bald, these days, but I think I like the 'landing strip' look. What do you think, David?"
"Uh, I like the 'landing strip' too, Mrs. Anderson."
She put her hands on her hips and turned to inspect her derriere. "What do you think about my ass, David? Is my ass too fat?"
"Uh, no, Mrs. Anderson. You have a nice . . . uh . . . ass . . ." I couldn't believe I was talking to my best friend's
MOM
about her pussy and her ass.
"Are you sure my ass isn't fat?"
"Uh, no, Mrs. Anderson. You have a nice ass. Your ass is, uh, very nice." I wasn't just saying this as a compliment; Mrs. Anderson had a
tight ass