I became a junkie for the perfumed aroma of her clothes, the soft texture of her nylon stockings against my leg, the gentle rise and fall of her chest...as she held me close, her whispered words. I began to make excuses to visit her, prolonging the outward appearance of agony long after the memory of why I was hurting in the first place had faded. I offered to do yard work for her, to clean her house, to iron her clothes. Anything to be close to the older woman who beguiled me so. I never stopped. So I invited sweety to my house. She reached house after I called her.She was the most caring girl I have ever known. She stood about five-feet-four inches tall, had gorgeous boobs, looked like a heroine with her cute smile.She was perfect, she was wearing a tight blue dress which hugged to her perfect breasts and I could not draw my eyes away from such an amazing vision. Sweety told “Hey! Stop staring at me, birthday boy,” she jumped on me and wished my birthday by kissing me. I gave her tight. More

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