You saw me, and called me over. When you saw I was unhappy, you asked me to come in and tell you about it. We got in, and you brought me a drink, and ...at on the couch next to me. I started talking to you, and you asked me questions, and pretty quickly I opened up about not being happy, and you seemed really understanding. All the time I was talking you kept getting a bit closer on the couch. I didn't know what to do, I wanted to reach over and kiss your lips, but I thought I might have misread. .she asks me...Blouse was tight on her body, hugging her body...breasts were holding on only one small button...what a cleavage..."No, it's perfect..." before I managed to say anything she said.."Lets try green one"...I placed green on a hook and made my way out, but before I could do that, she grabbed my shirt, looked me with those big blue eyes, and started to unbutton her blouse...I watched her unbutton, exposed her breasts...big rings around her firm nipples were looking at me...my hands. Her hands moved continually, stroking her breasts, caressing each stiff nipple in turn, then her belly and the flesh on her inner thighs. Each time her fingers strayed toward the pink, warm lips that curled open so suggestively beneath the wet thatch of pubic hair, she restrained them with an effort.Damn that doctor and his tests! Doris walked to her wardrobe, selected a dress. Each time she moved she felt her vaginal lips undulating, and her clitoris felt like a wriggling, hungry worm. I feel. . You're not alone ... I will help you..."She looked up.Her children looked up.They saw a young man, carefully dressed, nonthreateningly standing back and letting them see that I was "safe." The one I thought was the mother was much younger than I thought. She might have been their older sister, instead of their mother. She was slim, about five-feet five inches tall, with dark brown hair, cut to about her shoulders. Her clothes were worn, old, and in bad shape. They weren't dirty, just worn.