I’m in my early fifties and I don’t believe in making a fool of myself. And, honestly, they don’t attract me, aesthetics apart. I noticed a woma... in her mid-fifties, a beautiful figure, getting into the pool. She had shoulder-length gray hair and a really shapely rear with longish legs. She wore a one-piece cut high over the hips and it accentuated her litheness. Perhaps I looked at her a little too long as she turned her head and noticed me staring. She tied her hair back, stretched a silver. She lost her balance, falling without striking the concrete floor. Instead, she swung, her body suspended by growing webs. It stretched and spun, the unseen monster scurrying around her head, just outside her field of vision. Nicole could sense it, feeling it with little touches and movements as it used the web to pull her hands behind her head. Her eyes darted up, trying to see the spidery monster, and yet not daring to…Nicole could feel its breath bristling against her purple locks. She. More

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