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He wished that his chest was bare so he could feel her directly against his skin.She eyed his crotch again, even cupping his bulging package. "How's our not-so-little friend doing? Are you going to keep him locked up in those shorts forever? Mommy's hungry for a spermy snack." 'Forever?' I've been home less than two minutes. He's doing fine now, thanks to you." He grinned as she slowly unzipped his shorts. She stared in anticipation as his boner emerged.His erection suddenly sprang forth. Susan enveloped it with her hands even before it had stopped bouncing from being freed. She stayed standing and just bent over some, because his hand was stroking her mostly bare back and she didn't want him to stop.He noted, "I still have four times to go to make eight today." He took his shorts off and removed his underwear.Susan did some quick math and frowned, realizing he must have gotten off in school again during the day. She'd been noticing the last few days that the chart on his wall got one. Camelia brought a pan of chicken spaghetti over after the funeral. She sat on the sofa and cried - partly for my loss and partly for her own. Then, she went home to her empty house and I remained home alone in mine.For the months that followed, I threw myself into my work - often not arriving home until late at night. Before going to bed, I would have a single glass of wine while standing on the back deck looking up at the stars and licking the wounds of loneliness. More times than not, Camelia would be sitting on her deck as well with her hands folded in her lap listening to the comforting sounds of nature.She was still a striking woman in my opinion. Gray, shoulder-length hair and hardly a wrinkle on her face with the exception of some crow's feet which actually accentuated her sparkling blue eyes in a positive way. Of course, being the academic that she was, fashionable, black horn-rimmed glasses were almost always perched half-way on her nose. Her figure was (for a woman her age).
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