It was hard not to gasp out loud. He looked critically at it: it was bigger than it used to be, but a lot smaller than Mr Whitaker’s. Still, it was ...he same shape at least, and if he squeezed the top of it it felt especially good.When he looked up again the scene on the lawn was still developing: Ella was now with Lettie and had her head between Lettie’s big thighs ... well they were bigger than Ella’s at least. Could she breathe? What was the idea? Lettie seemed to be enjoying it, anyway,. I caught her eye. "Lift?" Great. Thanks"."Dump your stuff on the back seat", I said getting in to the front.She did and threw in her coat too , opened the door, got in and fastened the seat belt. As I slipped into gear I saw her mini-skirt hidden under her coat had ridden up to expose about a foot of thigh in silky black tights.As we drove off my eyes kept dropping to her thighs."Not getting enough then?"I didn't answer. Still at forty you could never get enough."Me neither. My husband. More

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