ИконописиконографияКартиниAnne sat for a while after Matt left, with a smile on her face, remembering the taste of him in her mouth, the feel of his lips at her pussy as he ate her to climax, of the sensation of his rock-hard prick as he took her from behind, taking her over the top to another climax. After four years without any sex after her husband’s untimely death, Matt’s teenaged virility had certainly reminded her of the pleasures to be found.
Her pussy still throbbed, reminding her again, and she stroked herself lightly through the opening of her robe, enjoying the feel of her fingers against her shaved mons. She glanced at the clock. Almost four. Matt had said he’d have Kathy home just after six, in plenty of time for dinner at seven. Anne smiled to herself. She’d make enough to serve three, just in case he could stay, but first she’d better get dressed. She stood, then sniffed her fingers. Another shower first!
In the shower she absently soaped her breasts, cupping them, reminding herself of the feel of Matt’s hands. Her nipples stiffened and she pulled at them gently, then one hand stole down between her legs and she began to stroke herself, to bring herself up to a solo peak, a peak attained quickly on her remembered pleasure. Her climax was strong and satisfying and she hummed to herself as she came down from her high and resumed her washing.