Indian Aunty
Something was on each side of it, trapping me. My eyes popped open to see a hairless pussy close up. As my eyes focused, they traveled up the smooth, tight muscles of a female stomach past large, firm breasts with erect nipples to rest on a devilish grin below bright blue eyes.“Good morning, sweetheart. Are you ready to get up?” Andy said impishly. She wiggled backward, dragging her pussy from my mouth down my body, tantalizing me all the way until it rested on my soft cock, where it gently rocked. She kissed me hungrily, her breasts caressing my chest.I smelled hot, fresh brewed coffee which is an addiction my father (Charles, not Bert) gave to me many years ago at home, where we all started our day that way. As Andy helped me sit up, Lisa knelt beside me. “Good morning, Davy,” she said, kissing me before handing me the mug. She licked her lips after tasting Andy on my mouth and her eyes flicked to Andy, who winked at her.As I sipped the coffee, they both started talking at once.. In doing so, I alternated five-mile runs one day with working out in the weight room the next.Our daughter was not around very much at that particular time. She was in college in Greenville throughout the school year and during the summer of ‘85 she was working all summer as a counselor at a girls’ camp near Ashville. Our neighbors at the end of the cull-de-sac in Charlotte were the Wilsons. George and Alice were typical suburbanites in their late forties and had one child, a 16 year old son, Billy. Billy was a tall, gangly boy with fairly short cropped blond hair. He was a reasonably typical teenage boy, active in sports and anxious to get his drivers license with all the freedom that entailed. Like all teenagers, I was certain that sex was also a major interest of his. I’d chuckled one time when I noticed that he got an obvious erection while he was helping Connie and me with some yard work that first summer that we moved in. He noticeably couldn’t keep his eyes off.
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