W. was a frumpy, lumpy old redhead, with a wide ass and a prominent boob shelf jutting from the shapeless sack dresses she wore. To my nineteen year ...ld self, she seemed ancient, although I suppose she was somewhere in her late fifties to early sixties.My room was on the third floor of the old house, sort of an attic under the roof with sloping ceiling and two dormer windows. There were two overseas grad students on the second floor, who I rarely encountered, and Mrs. W. resided on the main. No longer did she find herself fretting about her future. The daylight hours sped by in anticipation of the night. When she found a handful of dainty, yellow daisy-like blooms tucked against the rock canyon wall just down the trail to Jenny's corral she searched the small lean-to at the side of the cabin for anything that might hold water and flowers. An old rusty tin lay discarded in a corner. Her step sprang lightly as she tipped the tin into the goats' drinking pool and carried the flowers. She tugged at his sweater wanting to touch his skin too, but he was sitting on the tails.He stood up and she pulled the sweater over his head, barely breaking the lip lock, then dropped it in the floor."Hey my swe ... mmmrf mmmmmmmmm..."She kissed him harder, hands everywhere, tangling in his hair, rubbing up and down his back, grabbing his butt and pulling his hips against her, and feeling the sign of his arousal.He tangled his hands in her curls and kissed her ever more intently, biting and. She quickly added, "Let me give him a call, I was meaning to anyway." She excused herself as she went into another room to make the call. I sipped on ice tea she had in the kitchen as she did so. A few moments later she informed me that Mr. Smith would be gone a bit longer than she though, he had to stop by the store in town. I noticed that Mrs. Smith had taken down her hair. Her grey long hair rolled down the back of her neck as she straightened her back and as a result thrust out her rather.