Mom's room was down the hall before the bathroom and Paul's was way down on the end. The kitchen was just to the right of the living room on this end.... It was okay for two people, but crowded for three."Mom, do you ever go down the hall beyond the bathroom? I don't care if you do, it just would seem natural." Sometimes, not often though. I'm primarily Paul's housekeeper, not the fill-in for his dead wife or for my missing husband. Birthdays, either his or mine, and Christmas sometimes. Always on. I let the moment sweep me away as he explored me.The twin globes swelled with pleasure as he cupped them lightly, as he traced each inch of globe with his tongue until he finally settled on the rigid brown tips. I gasped as he drew the erect nub into his mouth, sucking gently, before moving on to the other. I found myself grasping his hair as he laved my breasts, begging him for more. Instead, he trailed his lips down my stomach to the top of my jeans and made short work of the zipper.I started. I ran a hand through her wet hair.“Do you dry your hair?” I asked.“Sometimes.” She was surprised.“Okay sit up,” I pointed her to the edge of the bed. I dug out the hairdryer someone had left and an extension, knelt behind her and started blowing it over her head. I gently raked up her hair and played the warm plume over it, combing through it with my fingers.Faye sat there, bemused, while I dried her straight, brown, barely-shoulder-length hair. When her hair was all dry and fluffy I kissed. “OH MY FUCKING GOD” I tried to scream at the horrific overwhelming flavor of her 10-day nylon foot sweat, but my mouth was muffled. She laughed out loud at me. “Oh fuck," she said in between laughing at me, "that’s gotta taste horrible. You are such a disgusting footstool.” She continued laughing cruelly at my torment. “I want your mouth to be covered in my scent and taste by the time you cum. You will remember this session for the rest of your life, whore.” She was still giggling tauntingly at.