It’s a race to see whose hands get to them first, hers or mine. If Amelia’s palms are on her flesh, it’s my fingers that lace over the back of h...r hand and thread between her fingers, eager for the softest touch of breast and the hard tip of nipple, rolled between her fingers. If it’s my hand that cups her breast first, her smaller palm holds my hand to her heart, and her other hand reaches for the back of my head and her fingers run through my hair. Amelia pulls my head towards hers, and we. Not that I was planning on doing it witha guy to even get to that state anyway - that was the farthest thingfrom my mind right now. I wasn't ready to share this body with anybodyright now. I wanted it all to myself for the time being. Fun was staringme in the face.I righted my underpants, which were by now much too tight for comfortwith my much wider hips.I reconsidered and opted to go without underpants for the time being,stripping them off and tossing them in the dirty clothes bin.My much. "You're not cold, are you?" I asked."Oh, no!" she replied. "Quite the opposite in fact. This robe is very warm." Good," I said. I finally slipped out of her. A line of cum drooled from her labia, starting to drip onto the floor. I reached behind me and found a napkin, and held it to her lips, staunching the flow before it could reach the critical, dripping stage. "Maybe we should clean up a bit," I added."Yeah," she said, and struggled to sit up. "You sure are messy, you know that?" I was. It started about three months ago. When she’d go out with her husband or to a club with friends, she’d ask me to come to her bedroom and help her pick out cloths and would dress right in front of me. She’d always wear the shortest and tightest mini dresses with sexy high heels, or these real hot leather or suede, thigh-high boots. It was like she wanted me to see her body like she was teasing me with it.Two weeks ago she called me at school and asked me to come over to help her decide on a.