Angie giggled “It’s a Sybian, but we’ve got lots of nice toys for you to try, I’ll give you a tour of our playroom after I’ve had breakfast�...�. So that was our quiet departure scuppered.Peter joined in “Saints are playing at Anfield today, it’s the 3pm kick off and on Sky. Fancy watching with me S?” I beamed “Great, it’s a date”. I glanced at G, she looked distinctly unimpressed. Angie saw her reaction “Don’t worry, we will have some fun while they behave like a couple of grey teens!”We sat. I lethargically lifted my body from my couch and slowly, coolly, walked to the door. (Mustn't let on any show of anticipation to those pimple faced, lecherous pizza boys.) I methodically opened the door. My jaw dropped. My stomach wriggled. My words u*********sly slurred."Pizza!" she said.She! Yes! She! This was no pizza boy! No! This was a woman! And what a woman!"Pizza!!" she said, a bit impatiently, again."PPPllease cccome in." I, through my extreme nervousness (it took all my conscious. When I say, "Mrs. Reynolds" rather than "Bambi" or just "Mom", I mean she had dressed and made herself up to impress our company. The dress she wore was a deep-maroon, shimmering gown that was slit up to her waist on one side and draped open clear down to her navel in front. It moved freely over her high, rounded breasts as she walked and looked like it was light enough to blow off altogether in the slightest breeze. Her makeup and her hair were elegantly done. Her face looked positively regal.. She told me I was beautiful constantly, and her physique inspired me to start working out. As I made progress in my fitness, she was my own personal cheerleader. She would also consistently tell me what a good person I was and how lucky she was to be my friend. Whenever I was with her, I felt like a million dollars. I was definitely the lucky one.She never told me flat out that she was bisexual, but it became apparent the closer we got. One night, after some guy she'd been sleeping wasn't.