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 pair of my white knickers....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 horn. I ran downstairs, closed and locked the front door and headed for the car. My son was already in the seat.. ’ ‘Bitch.’ ‘Oooh, my handsome man is feeling his oats.’ Andre’s response was confined to a huge smile and Lucinda giggled. He watched Lucinda moving about and felt more than his oats rising. The adrenalin flow also made him feel bolder and clinking glasses before taking his first drink of alcohol in three months he said, ‘Would it be a good idea if you removed that lovely dress to avoid creasing it when sitting down here?’ ‘We’re on a rug.’ ‘But the ground beneath is uneven.’ ‘I’m not wearing a. More

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