This trip, though, she felt positively naughty. They had driven to a take-out place and ate the ice cream in silence - her son barely talking this eve...ing. Teresa did not talk either, she just sat silently feeling like a kid again - happy.Then there was her son's latest gift - an expensive pair of high heels that, when she put them on, along with her first gifts, her son had asked her to walk about the room so as to watch her intently. She had done it, of course - feeling brave and loved."Why. ’ ‘Do you have some time, now?’ ‘Yeah, it’s close enough to lunch. I can take a break.’ ‘Have a seat,’ I said ushering him into the chair by my desk. ‘How do I start?’ ‘Just think of a story that you’d like to record on paper and on computer disk and start talking.’ ‘Okay, well, there’s this one woman on my route, Lola, I mean, Mrs. Simmons. She’s always flashing me her body. She’s a real tease.’ ‘Well, this sounds like a good story, a bit erotic, but there’s nothing wrong with that,’ I said. My finger slides in slowly, my thumb resting on my clitoris as it hardens and appears from its little cover. My hand is soaking from the juices leaking form with in me. I pull my finger upwards and find the rough area behind my pubic mound. She slips her panties off, her pubic hair is trimmed to virtually nothing, her pussy looks wet and inviting. I rub my g spot, my legs instinctively clamp together. My toes begin to curl, pulses, like an electric current flow through my body. My other hand. She squeezed a little. “Do what you did a few weeks ago. After the first day of school when we went to your room and you painted me. Arthur ... Kiss my breasts.”I’d been wanting to do that ever since the first time. I loved feeling them in my hands, but that one light kiss of her nipples that afternoon had lit a primal desire in my lips that I couldn’t explain. I lowered my face and pushed her sweater and cami up, not waiting to expose her breasts, but started kissing her stomach as I lifted.