It seemed to me that she liked it when I called her that way because she would always call me “Dear” or “Honey” or other things in Puerto Rica...n that sounded sweet as they rolled off the tongue.Sure, she was almost fifty but that was not to say she wasn’t still physically attractive in a mature sort of way. In fact, I liked the way her tits drooped a bit and her nipples were well used after feeding three children as she raised them the old-fashioned way with mother’s milk. Mrs. Brown was not. It was a beautiful tribute. ‘How do you feed yourself when you do these things,’ I managed the nerve to ask. She brushed me off. ‘This lifetime isn’t about creating money,’ she said. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I had a notion and dropped the subject. I ventured on to just find out more. ‘So why Berkeley in September, other than DC is entering its fourth month of summer hell?,’ I innocently asked. ‘A friend is dong a theater piece and needed to fill a part. But mostly I have been thinking. I open my legs and raise my skirt up my thighs to a point where anyone looking might be lucky and catch a glimpse of my wet pussy.I can see that hubby approves from a bulge straining against thin lightweight summer trousers.The thought of what we will do later makes me feel sensationalAs I glance around, I notice another guy good looking mature on his own at a table perfectly positioned to watch my exhibitionThis excites me even more and I feel it rushing through my bodyI choose not to make. Here she ran her fingers into his wet hair and pulled his mouth towards her own. Probing his mouth with her tongue, she caressed his trim, muscular body with her hands. Their skill and softness ensured he was filled with lust and desire.She pulled away from him and told him to stand up. Watching him, she took another drag on her cigarette and commanded, ‘lose the towel!’ The size and hardness of his manhood caused her to gasp slightly, but she smiled and beckoned him closer with a curl of her.