We were fooling around in the kitchen one August morning when my wife, Helen, noticed a car parked across the street with a driver who kept looking at our house. After we cleaned up the breakfast dishes, she noticed that he was still there, looking toward our window. We were feeling frisky but felt self-conscious with an observer.
"What's he looking at? What does he want?" Helen asked.
"Maybe he just parked to use his cell phone." I replied with my back to the window.
"I'll give him something to look at!"
"Hey, you didn't just flash him your tits, did you?"
"It was just a quick flash. He might not even have seen. Anyway, he's too far away for a good look."
"But you aren't wearing a bra!"
"Yah, I guess I forgot."
"Well, now he's getting out of his car and walking this way! Suppose he saw your "come hither" appeal and wants a closer look?"
"Oh, no! Don't answer the door!"
"He looks young and colored, and he's wearing shorts."
"Oh, he's cute! Wait a minute! He looks familiar! I think he was in my class last semester, Jerome Gonzales!"
Helen blushed down to her chest.
"Should I let him in? Maybe he has a question about his English studies. He can't come to your office between semesters."
"Oh, umm."
"Grin and bare it!"
"I already grinned and bared, so I guess you mean "Grin and b-e-a-r it."
"Ever the English teacher! Just grin and brazen it out."
"I'm old enough to be his mother, so I doubt he was turned on by my 45-year-old boobs!"
"You underrate those big, full, still firm tits, and wait until he sees your beautiful legs in that miniskirt!"
The doorbell rang. I left Helen fidgeting in the kitchen.
"Hi. Does Mrs. Jensen live here?"
"Yes, she does. Were you one of her English students?"
"Yeah, and I wanted to take another course from her in the fall, but the class is filled. I need special permission from Professor Jensen to get into her... course."
"Come on in. Were you a good student?"
"I got a B+ in the first semester of Freshman English and an A- in the second."
"Helen, here's one of your best students from last year. He says your Modern British Writers course is filled. He needs your permission to get in."
"Why, yes, Jerome, I'll let you in... the course!"
Helen is 5'1" with short brown hair, blue eyes, and voluptuous with a plump ass, and big tits. Her legs are shapely, with full thighs, between which no daylight shows when she is standing or walking. Jerome was looking her up and down, as if he hadn't seen her figure in class.
Jerome had black curly hair, and looked to be about 6', with not much fat on him and sinewy muscles.
"Jerome, have you had breakfast?" Helen asked.
"Yes, ma'm." He replied, with a glance at her mammaries.
Her scoop neckline showed some cleavage, especially when she bent down to pet our little dog.
"How about some juice, then?"
"Pussy juice" popped into my dirty mind.
Helen got him some orange juice, and we sat on the couch in the living room, with Helen in the middle. Her tight miniskirt rode more than halfway up her thighs. She tugged at the hem in vain, which only drew attention, and so crossed her legs, which revealed even more of her creamy right thigh. Jerome sat on her right, so he got the best view. She glanced at me and found what she would call a smirk.
"So, Jerome, how's your summer going? What have you been doing?"
"I've been earning money for school by working at Perkins."
"And what do you do for fun?"
Jerome cast his eyes down in thought, but his eye wandered to a contemplation of Helen's luscious bare thigh. Then he clasped his hands in his lap to conceal a growing problem. He tried to cross his legs but realized he might cut off the circulation in an emergency demanding more blood.
"Oh, I ride my bike, do some fishing and hit the bars."
I got up to let the dog outside.
"Jerome, I'm sorry about flashing you! I thought you were a nosey stranger, and the devil made me do it."
