Jean

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Blonde

Facebook meme:You know what’s really uncomfortable?  A bra.  But we still wear one in public.  Not for me, for others.That was posted by my hiking partner, a woman in her early sixties who is in excellent shape because of her hiking and her work as an occupational therapist.  Whenever we go out into the woods, I’ve always been happy to let her take the lead so I could enjoy the view.  Such a nice ass wiggle. I commented back, You don’t need to wear one on my account.We’ve spent a lot of time together the past couple of years, hiking, having lunch or dinner, hanging out in the park by the river, day trips to various destinations around here, even a couple of overnight camping trips where we each had our own tents.  I’ve always watched for signs of interest from her and even dropped a few very subtle hints but was never given any reason to think she would go beyond being friends and sharing fun times.Her reply was something about her not wanting her boobs stared at in the grocery store, which I let slide even though that showed she wore one for her, not for anyone else.  Besides, she was moving out of town in a few days, and I didn’t want to start anything.  Damn, I was going to miss her.I’d agreed to help her move and the day of loading the truck I was under her sink, removing the water filter she had installed.  I did something wrong, no idea what, but in an hour or so, my left side began hurting something awful.  Bruised or cracked rib from lying on the edge under the counter?  I kaçak iddaa knew I wasn’t in the greatest shape at sixty-five anymore, but shit, I should be able to do that still.  Fortunately, she’d hired movers to load the truck and the filter removal was the last thing to do that day, so we went to bed, she in her bedroom, me on a camping mattress in the living room.  I was surprised I got as much sleep as I did.  Every time I moved, the pain woke me.The next day she fixed a breakfast of eggs and fake bacon (she didn’t eat meat), did the dishes, stuck it all into the last box out, and off we went, she in her car and me driving the truck.  Dang, getting up into it was painful.  We arrived at her new place a couple of hours later and the next set of movers were waiting.  They unloaded, which suited me fine since I was still sore.  Then we took the truck to the rental company and returned to her new place.  She began sorting some things out, the important, need it tomorrow stuff.  I helped as best I could, but even if I’d been 100%, I didn’t know where it all went.  We had a salad for lunch, then that evening she ordered a meatless pizza, which was quite good. After eating I was sitting on the couch, not the most comfortable place to be with whatever was going on with my side.  I repositioned myself and groaned a bit.  She looked at me questioningly.  “Whatever this is, it still hurts like mad,” I explained, pointing at my left side.“What you’re saying is so foreign to me.  I’ve had muscular-skeletal kaçak bahis problems since I was nineteen.  I never talk about it, just focus and push through.”  What the fuck??  I’d learned early on she had some odd thought patterns, but this was the oddest and coldest thing she’d ever said.  It pissed me off a bit.“Seriously?  I half-cripple myself helping you and all you can do is bitch because I groaned when moving?”“I’m not bitching, but what do you expect from me?”I have no idea where this came from, but I opened my mouth and out came, “I’d think at least a blowjob.”  Holy shit!  She stood there staring at me, not in surprise, though.  I chalked that up to her oddness, too.  She locked on my gaze and walked over to stand directly in front of me.  I sat there waiting for something, probably being kicked out to sleep in her car. “So, you don’t like me wearing a bra.”  With that, she pulled her t-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor, then reached back and unhooked her bra, shrugged it off to join the t-shirt.  Sweet Jesus in the morning!  I’d gotten lots of downblouse and armhole glimpses of some of her breast flesh and had seen her in her sports bra once when she changed blouses at my place before leaving after a day of hiking, but now I was looking at them fully exposed.  Her arms hung at her sides.  I’d placed her at about a 34B already and that still looked about right.  There was some sag, of course, but they still had a nice shape and the nipples stuck out, illegal bahis not down.  Those were light brown like the areolas, and about the size of a large pencil eraser, the first grader’s type of eraser.She knelt in front of me, gently pushing my knees apart so she could scoot in between them.  She unbuckled my belt, unfastened and unzipped my jeans, and grabbed their waist.  “Lift,” she said.  I raised my hips off the couch (fuck, holy fuck, that hurt) as she tugged them down to my ankles.  Then she pulled them from my feet and removed my socks.  Shoes had already gone once our trekking in and out was over. I was sitting there naked from the waist down; she was kneeling naked from the waist up.  Seemed like a good match to me.  She began stroking my thighs with her hands flat against me, each stroke moving closer to my crotch.  Her crystal blue eyes watched mine for whatever she was looking for.  I swear she had a slight upturn on the corners of her mouth, but I couldn’t tell for sure. Her fingertips brushed my balls, then the base of my cock, retreated, then returned.  Each stroke now went a little higher up my cock.  Finally, it was enveloped between her two hands with the tips of her middle fingers teasing the glans.  By then I was fully hard.  Keeping her hands in a prayer position (or namaste position since she was Buddhist), she began masturbating me.  It was weird, but it felt great.  I’m not circumcised so the foreskin was moving up and down with her actions.  I lay my head back, closed my eyes and let my focus go to the physical sensations.  Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered if I’d actually get a blowjob, or if this was it.  Fuck, either way, I’d seen her tits.

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