She hadn’t even budged, even after all of my weight came crashing down on her. She was a true brick house. My body was panicking while my face was t...apped between her breasts. The fabric was starting to suffocate me. I felt her hands grab my hair gently and pull me out. I realized on my way out that both of my hands were kneading her breasts the whole time. ‘Sweetie, are you ok?’ she asked. ‘Buhh, yeah. Ugh, how embarrassing.’ ‘Oh don’t be. You’re such a fragile little thing! You need your. Then it got silent. We looked at each other, and I asked "Are we picking up where we left off?" Doris remained silent for a bit, as though she was thinking about what to say. She then said, "Well, you're apparently a bit horny, and so am I. It's not like this is new to us, after all!"That's all I needed, and began to make some suggestive comments - expanding on my earlier comments about her skin, shoulders and straps. She quickly said, as she hooked her thumbs under her straps "Do you mean. "I could barely hear him this time. "Umm. Yes...please do that." "Running my hand around the front and grasping that bulge that's forming for me." As she spoke she slipped the negligee up and over her soft shoulders. "Sweet girl. Yes, yes. Show me all of you." "I love to feel you getting hard. It starts my juices secreting, like now." One hand had gone to her pussy. "I know. You're always wet for me." He laughed. "So perfect." "Kissing and kissing and kissing those lips while I carress you and. Not for a while.As she readied herself for the party, she also thought about moving back to West Hartford, not with her family, as she couldn’t stay there anyway, but near her old college. She was happiest there too, and trying to relocate to happiness had a futile ring to it, but she no longer cared for misery either. A woman can’t simply be happy. A woman can’t search for it either. For her happiness either just came or didn’t no matter where she went. Such was the female poet’s dilemma..
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