The caption read, “I’m a real bitch.”“See, asshole? I’m wearing panties and I don’t intend to take them off. How do you like my shirt?”I put my arms around her and lifted her thin frame off the porch. Her arms wrapped around my neck and we stood still, hugging for several minutes.She kissed my lips twice, quickly, the same little kisses we’d shared for fifteen years.Then I put her feet back on the ground.“I like pink. I ‘specially like how they smell, once you’ve worn them all day. I used to prowl through your hamper and treat myself to a good whiff, once in a while.” She gave me the finger.“As far as your shirt goes,” I took the opportunity to tweak both nipples, which I discovered were NOT hidden behind a bra, “I like your tits. It doesn’t matter what shirt you wear.”Many times in the past, I had wondered how a slim woman could eat so much, so I had cut up a large chef’s salad in anticipation Linda would be hungry.We ate and made small talk.She had stayed on poor Gary’s ass to make. Stevens was older than his wife and looked at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. Mrs. Stevens wasn’t a witch, well not using the letter ‘w’ anyway. She really was surprised to see the Stevens’ car parked near her spot one day. The car was right where she would have been spotted if she tried to leave. It was only there for a short time, but it was enough to see Mr. Steven’s wasn’t alone. She didn’t recognize the young blond girl bobbing up and down on his dick, but it sure wasn’t red-haired Mrs. Stevens.It bothered her a bit until she was cutting through a couple of backyards last summer and spotted Mrs. Stevens and someone not her husband skinny dipping in their pool if you can call getting screwed in the corner of the pool skinny-dipping. She remembered thinking Mrs. Stevens could use her chest as a flotation device in the event of an airplane crash. Another time she saw her with someone else and she was doing what the blond was doing with her husband. It was kind of funny.
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