Three years ago, I moved from Port-Au-Prince, Haiti, to Brockton, Massachusetts, in the United States of America. I was not alone. My mother Augustine...Florestal, my son Bernard and my brother Stefan also came with me. We rented a fairly large apartment in Brockton’s North Side and began our new lives. My brother Stefan got himself a job as a clerk at a grocery store. I started working security and attending the local community college. My son went to school. As for my mother, she took care of. Beth’s knickers shimmered with pantyhose bulge. ‘That feels so good,’ sighed Beth, as she resumed slowly pedalling, making the saddle creak under the glimmering, bulging panties. Her mind momentarily wondered to the old couple next door, who thought that she was a sweet, polite, kind young lady, with her morning hellos. What would have they made of her now, her panties bulging with tights she had willingly allowed Geraldine to push down them?‘Now sniff my tights,’ she said.Geraldine trembled. I could feel her pulling me alone and I followed. We entered a room that was off the living room. I realized it was her room. She pushed me onto the bed and straddled my legs. I kissed her lips and move to her ear. I gently teased her ear lope with my tongue. I could feel her hands around my body sliding up the back of my shirt. I moved down to her neck and kissed it. I could hear her moan softly. I felt her pull my shirt up and slide it over my head. I kissed her again as her hands moved to my. “I was going to ask you out to lunch,” I said. Three years of pent up emotions suddenly welled up inside of my pants.“Lunch sounds good,” Rita replied, flipping a lock of her hair back over her shoulder as she looked at me from her perch on my desk.“I’m thinking a late breakfast or brunch might be better,” I quickly shot back.“So, what do you have in mind?” Rita asked.I scooted my leather-backed chair closer my desk. I placed my hand on Rita’s bare knee and gently worked my pointing finger back.