Dillian’s hands crept forward to her upper thighs as she pulled her pussy open. When she spread her fleshy teenage legs, I felt my erection pressing very firmly against my briefs, giving them a pronounced bulge, really more like a mountain. That was just simple biology. Okay. About 19 years and one failed marriage later, I came into our den about noonish on a Saturday and found Dillian relaxing there on the sofa in a lacy black bra and matching black panties. Holy fuck, what I was feeling for her! I nodded. I lost my socks and shoes. She counted it out nervously and landed on the first of the three hotels. I knocked everything over. And I admit the constant suggestive sight of her legs, her ass, her cleavage, and everything else she had been flaunting around the house had been seriously wearing down the modesty I was trying so strenuously to cultivate. “I think I’m liking this thing that adults play,” she purred. I knocked everything over.
