I looked in the mirror. I really didn't need a bra. Even at thirty seven my tits were still perky. The dress was short. It only came to the middle of ...y thighs. I slipped on a pear of white panties. I took one last look in the mirror. I thought to myself. "For a mother of an eighteen year old son, I still looked good. I know my husband still likes what I look like. He tries to fuck me at least five times a week." I heard the car horn.I ran downstairs, closed and locked the front door and headed. I was playing my video game when I heard her groan. She looked around, smacked her mouth and licked her parched lips. …thirsty…, she said in a hoarse voice. I turned off my game and brought her a glass of ice water. Thanks, she whispered. She was trying to collect herself. She moved very gingerly as she tried to stand. She fell back on the couch twice. I helped her up. Thanks again. She smiled at me. Its hot in here. Oh my God Im sweating. Are you hot, she asked? Kinda, yeah. Porch, I asked?. More

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