''Slim?' Sarah grimaces and stands up turning her lovely firm arse towards me 'Call this slim? I certainly don't.'I look at the offered rump with unco...cealed pleasure. 'I call it a glorious arse,' I say laughing. 'A perfect specimen.'Seeing me laugh, Sarah smiles, 'Thanks. But you're only saying that to cheer me up. I look at all my mates and I'm massive in comparison.''But all your friends still have girls' figures, whilst yours is a woman's.' I answer seriously. Sarah is still standing there. Well neither one of us were spring chickens anymore. Shelly was in her early Fifties, and I was, well it don't matter my dick still got hard. She was somewhere around five foot -nine, short blonde frosted hair, and I guess she probable weighed 145 pounds or near that. I loved the way we could talk about anything, especially who we'd fucked, how it felt, and why we'd called it quits.....Tonight would be another chapter in out lives. And I truly wanted to read this chapter.Shelly arrived. She was asking for more. Her pussy was getting wet. I tickled her a bit on her hips and puckered at her nipples. She was hot and ready. Both of loved a long foreplay. After about ten minutes of fondling, caressing, licking, kissing, and moaning, I inserted my rod into her wet and by now wide-open pussy. She exclaimed, “shh… Awww!” I positioned my penis in a 30 degree angle and started pumping her. Lick me lovely darling.” rhythm, passion, fragrance, excitement, and suspense all combined to. She opened her eyes and looked down to see male hands covering her breasts. She felt warm, wet lips against her neck, and a suspiciously hard object against her backside. She stiffened, preparing to fight off the rapist. Suddenly the hands stopped and she whirled around. She almost screamed when she realized she was staring face to face with Michael Daughton, professor of art history. What stopped her scream was the look of desire, mixed with the look of… it couldn’t be. No, he couldn’t be.