Deep Sexual Lust From India

Friday nights were spent catching up with Mr. Oldham and Suzanne. Saturday mornings I ran with Stephanie and Curtis and Saturday nights Stephanie and I played kissy-face in her aunt's living room after the kid went to bed. We still pretended to read from The Merchant of Venice but her class had finished the play weeks before and I didn't know what she was currently reading. We had progressed to the point of removing her shirt and bra completely but I stopped trying to take it to a new level. I contented myself with playing with her breasts, squeezing them and flicking the nipples with my tongue. She seemed to enjoy the attention and there were signs that she would have permitted me to do more. Her skirt would ride up on her thighs; she no longer wore jeans or slacks. I could have run my hand up her leg, all the way to her sex but I didn't. I bided my time, waiting for Ann to come home from her date.Through subtle questioning I learned that Ann was divorced and worked in her uncle's. There was nothing sexual about the way she was standing at the sink, but every movement of her arms lifted her long shirt enough to raise the hem and uncover her heart shaped ass. At just over 5 feet, any time she reached up to put a dish away she was on her toes, toned legs taught beneath a sheer white lycra legging that (thankfully) is acceptable now as a reasonable outfit. The white fabric was thin enough for me to see the outline of a red string sliding over her hips and down her ass. On her tiptoes, I could see her panties hugging a camel toe under her ass. I sight that was familiar with from online photos, but never one I'd encountered in person. My already undecided cock suddenly made a more obvious announcement, and I stepped closer under the pretense of helping her reach a high shelf, grazing her backside. Barely. It was like she melted at the slight touch. Her hands collapsed onto the sides of the sink, her back arched as her knees buckled slightly, and stretched like a cat.
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