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I paused shyly then yelled sheepishly, "…H-h-hello." I quivered as both came over.
My 5" boner snapped in palpitations under the boxer-type sport shorts that hung from my trim waist.
It made a pup tent out the side of the flimsy shorts. Trying to keep her lovely eyes from looking down at the prominence became paramount.
The ample shaft bent 90-degress over my left thigh top. My pulsating dark c-o-c-k-h-e-a-d and green shorts became wet from dense, simmering p-r-e-c-u-m.
Just as I finished at , a flashy black 2-door Lincoln Continental pulled into the neighboring driveway.
She looked down and winked, noticing the prominence under taut material and the damp circle at its bulbous end. " "No, no," replied myself, "this wet spot’s from sweating.
(No nipple showed, sadly.) There was no way she could stop the shirt from blowing up, as she needed both hands to hold her son and electrical cord.
She just had to stand there and let us see her briefly flash bronzed skin. I stood on the steps to check out her buttocks wrapped in a sheer white/floral skirt that blew about too.
Thirdly, shyness ruled my childhood, never dating back then thanks to intimidation.
Sexual inexperience on my part heightened the desire for women who f-u-c-k like WHORES, and look the part, nothing less.
She walked ladylike poised with courtly grace, young son hanging onto one hand.