Sure, I said, why not? I wondered what she looked like at twenty-eight. Probably fat and faded, the mother of several brats, living in the 'burbs with...dishpan hands and tired bouffant hair. She arrived at my apartment with a gourmet picnic basket. Shrimp on ice, duck pate, champagne, and she was more gorgeous than ever. She drove a Mercedes and although she had her longish dark hair in a ponytail, no makeup, in jeans and a t-shirt, she looked like a million bucks. And those big brown eyes, so. She squeezed some sun cream over my chest and pinned my arms down, with her breasts hanging down tantalisingly above me, then lowered her chest so she could rub the lotion in with her boobs. The sensation was just heavenly; it doesn't get much better than this, I thought. But it did. She released my arms, and I felt my trunks being slowly pulled down, releasing my straining erection. The next thing I knew, my prick was feeling the warm wetness of mum's cunt enveloping it, as she lowered. More

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