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Home Sweet Home.

She didn't participate exactly, David thought, but she was letting him flick at her and he could feel her breath increasing as he slobbered kisses and licks along her mouth and her face, her exposed neck.

This is a 60-something year old woman I am ravishing, he thought, and she is letting me. And this aroused him more.

David undid one button on the pink blouse and it popped open, revealing the brassiere-covered tits, larger even than he expected. He reached for the right one and touched it only tentatively and he felt Mariel shiver. The nipple hardened in the instant as he gently massaged the tip with his thumb.

"Oh, we shouldn't be doing this," Mariel managed to croak. "Please don't. This is so wrong."

David started kneading her breast more firmly. "Oh . . . ." was all she could say as he kissed her mouth, bit on her ear. Almost by accident, he pulled on her hair as he tried to free his hand to grab the other tit and her reaction was electric. He tugged on her hair again, nipped at the fleshy lobe of her ear and boldly slipped his right hand inside the bra to feel the warmth, heft and softness of her huge breast.

"David, David, I'm a married woman," she said in a plaintive way that made David smile through his lust. "Do you think we should do this?" And for the first time she gave a timid peck at his mouth and he knew she was his.

"You're right," he said, smiling to himself. "I'm so sorry." And he reluctantly pulled his hand away from that warm, erotic titflesh and brushed it firmly against her crotch which responded with warmth, wetness and a slight buck.

"I'm so sorry," he said again, struggling to keep from laughing out loud. "Please forgive me." And he rushed out the door.

Mariel was breathless. And stunned.

What had happened? Had David actually been here?

But, yes. She could feel his sweet sweat on her cheek. Her coral blouse was open and, when she closed her eyes, she could feel the soft, yet insistent touch of David's thumb against her nipple, still hard.

She felt tentatively for her crotch. Warm. Hot, even. And wet with desire.

Mariel licked her lip absently and reached over her belly and into her panties where she fingered her clit. In a moment - and for the first time in years - she experienced a thunderous, body-shaking orgasm and it was only the bracing of a shaking arm that prevented her from collapsing to the linoleum floor.

David ignored Mariel for the next few days. It wasn't easy.

He now hungered for her in a way he had never felt hunger for a woman before. Her great tit beneath the heavy-duty bra was like something from another world. He wanted more than anything to possess it, to feel its warmth under his bare hand again, to consume it with his open mouth, to flick at the nipple with his tongue and watch again the way Mariel's eyes rolled back in their sockets as he toyed with her, the way her tongue played with her bottom lip as he felt her up, the way her breath increased in intensity and to listen again to the soft, mewing protestations that inflamed him more than anything else.

But he had a plan and this morning, finally, he would carry it out.

He was up early, even before his mother had started breakfast. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair and pulled on the tightest shorts he could get into and a muscle shirt, then was out the door.

The summer morning was clear and cool. Not a cloud in the sky. He could smell eggs and bacon from dozens of kitchens in the neighborhood.

But he was only interested in one.

David knocked on the door of the Archer house and, as he expected, a surprised Mariel Archer, wearing a robe and a long nightgown beneath and holding a spatula, opened the door and he pushed his way in.

Mariel looked panicked.

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