“Sure, Cindy. Your call.” She turned and beckoned me to unzip her dress. I did with fumbling fingers. The zip ran down to the top of her bottom. C...ndy turned, smiling. She slipped the straps down her arms and pushed the dress to the floor. She stepped out of the dress and scooped it up. She folded it and put it on to a chair. The vision turned to me. In her bra and knickers. “You are sure your wife won’t mind, Jack?” “Sure,” I stammered. We chatted whilst we sipped our drinks. “Another one?”. Her daughter would put a plastic cover over her bandaged ankle to prevent it getting wet, but it sure made it difficult.She spent most of her days sitting out on the back patio, reading some of Stephen's wide collection of books, her feet both resting as she lay on the banana lounge, propped up with cushions. It was something she joked to herself that she could readily get used to, especially as she had a handsome man waiting on her all day.Each day she found herself more and more drawn to this. My skirt was just a bit above my knees and I had on a low cut shirt that showed the deep cleavage of my breasts, amplified by the new push-up bra I'd just bought.I went to the bar, ordered a glass of wine, and before I even started to drink, a good looking guy slid onto the seat next to mine. He had wedding ring on his left hand and looked like he just stepped out of a shower. He started his blah blah blah about what is a beautiful girl like me doing being alone in a bar, etc., etc. Then he. I fight to push them from my mind as the ground crawls over my skin, winding around my breasts and tightening in the most terrifyingly delicious pinch. My nipples threaten to burst as the crush grows and heat floods to my pussy, a deluge of juice in its wake absorbed by the ethereal spirit that morphs and oscillates, empowered with every drop it takes from me.A scream wells in my throat as pleasure rips through me. My eyes frantically scan the ground for Zara's image, barely able to focus while.