SweetAnnie40
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 22, 2017
- Posts
- 3,726
You check the address again and let the Uber driver take off. Hauling your suitcase up the walkway, you're impressed by the size of the house. You aren't sure how many rooms it has but after another year at University, you're more than happy to spend your two week holiday here.
You would have gone home for the break as usual but your parents are on a long trip so I volunteered to put you up with me. "More than enough room" was an understatement.
Ringing the doorbell, you wait a minute until the door pulls back noisily and I greet you.
"Nephew!" I say with enthusiasm and bring you into a big hug. Those few moments are striking to you the least of which is the pleasure you feel being brought up against my substantial bosom. Memories of masturbating to thoughts of my breasts flood your mind unbidden which sends signals 'downstairs'.
In addition to my curvy figure, you are always taken by my mode of dress. I love vintage fashions and often look like a pin-up model from the 1950s. You see the delicious layers of dress and lingerie, a corset incorporated as part of the look, always high heels which leave me a couple inches taller than you.
I pull back, my hands lingering on your upper arms, searching your face and waiting for a response, oblivious to the growing tent in your slacks.
You would have gone home for the break as usual but your parents are on a long trip so I volunteered to put you up with me. "More than enough room" was an understatement.
Ringing the doorbell, you wait a minute until the door pulls back noisily and I greet you.
"Nephew!" I say with enthusiasm and bring you into a big hug. Those few moments are striking to you the least of which is the pleasure you feel being brought up against my substantial bosom. Memories of masturbating to thoughts of my breasts flood your mind unbidden which sends signals 'downstairs'.
In addition to my curvy figure, you are always taken by my mode of dress. I love vintage fashions and often look like a pin-up model from the 1950s. You see the delicious layers of dress and lingerie, a corset incorporated as part of the look, always high heels which leave me a couple inches taller than you.
I pull back, my hands lingering on your upper arms, searching your face and waiting for a response, oblivious to the growing tent in your slacks.