I need to sit still for a while. My knees are not responding, feeling like jelly after the intense orgasm. He takes the opportunity to touch me. His h...nds feels dry, almost like paper as they cup my breasts and gently squeezes my nipples before caressing the sides of my torso, my arms, my shoulders and my neck. I enjoy his touch for a moment while my body gathers strength. Then I lift my head back up, look him in the eyes and start to ride him slowly. He closes his eyes and let his hands do his. I took it off again. I removed my bra and put the dress back on. I looked in the mirror. I really didn't need a bra. Even at thirty seven my tits were still perky. The dress was short. It only came to the middle of my thighs. I slipped on a pear of white panties. I took one last look in the mirror. I thought to myself. "For a mother of an eighteen year old son, I still looked good. I know my husband still likes what I look like. He tries to fuck me at least five times a week." I heard the car. More

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